The Rebel and the Queen
by Xandurpein
Summary: An Alternate Universe story of how the rebel Michael Couslands attempts to abduct Teyrna Anora MacTir and steal her heart.
1. Different Circumstances

_This story grew out of a friendly collaboration with Ravenia here. I let one of her main character's have a cameo in my strory "Queen of Thorns," while she let my main character in that story have a Cameo in her stories "Theshold" and "Crossing Over". I was intrigued by the setting she had written for Michael Cousland. He is a very different person here, still carefree and unmarked by the horrors and the decisions of a Grey Warden, while Anora does not hold the power she does as queen. _

_In chapter 15 and forward Michael's brother, Fergus Cousland, joins the story as part of__ the collaboration between Ravenia and me. While both "Rebel and the Queen" and "For the Love of Leah" are stand alone stories, both run concurrently and tell the tale from the PoV of the two Cousland brothers and their women. I wholeheartedly recommend that you read Ravenia's story too, so you can enjoy the story from both sides._

_I am much indebted to Ravenia for helping me develope the characters in this story and to Cadsuane for story developement and proof reading. _

_This is also an erotic story and some of the characters are written a bit tongue in cheek, so be warned. It is rated (M) mature for very explicit sexual content. If this isn't your cup of tea, please look elsewhere._

* * *

Chapter 1. Different Circumstances

Teyrna Anora paced in her room irritably. She wanted to scream in frustration, but that would only cause a scene with guards running in to her bed chamber. It had already happened twice before and she disliked looking like a fool. So instead she tried to calm herself by sitting down on a small chair and waved Erlina over to massage her temples.

She had been so close. Despite her father's mad scheming, she'd gathered enough support from the nobles to win her bid for the crown at the Landsmeet. She would finally be the queen she knew she had always been meant to be. No longer dependant on her foolish husband and her father. Everything had been set in motion the way she had planned.

Everything except for one stupid elven girl. Who could ever have guessed that the little brat, Neria, would turn out to be such a speaker, or that Maric's whining bastard, Alistair, would actually discover a spine at the most inopportune moment? She'd been so sure she had everything in her hand, only to see it slip through her fingers as the Landsmeet voted to make Alistair King of Ferelden.

She still couldn't quite grasp how it had happened. She'd been furious—a fury born out of denial, as if her rage alone could unmake that dreadful reality. It had taken her a long week to cool down enough to come to terms with things.

Alistair had surprised her by visiting her in her prison cell and offering her one last chance to regain her freedom _and_ retain the Teyrnir of Gwaren—if she only relented and swore fealty to him. Her immediate reaction had been to spit on his offer, but a week in prison had woken her up to the reality that, however galling it would be to swear fealty to Alistair, the other option was far worse.

The words had tasted like ashes in her mouth when she took the oath in the throne room before the throne that should have been hers. Humiliated, she'd been forced to smile and thank the king for his generosity as she received her teyrnir in return.

Gwaren had been her home, but after living in the royal palace in Denerim, it felt small and provincial. She didn't really miss the finery or the splendor of Denerim. It was the politics and intrigue she missed. The excitement of playing a game she knew she could play better than anyone else. Everything in Gwaren seemed petty compared to Denerim.

It might have even been boring to rule Gwaren if it hadn't been for a band of rebels known as the Black Griffons. She had first heard of these rebels during the civil war. They'd been one of many such groups fighting against her father. The nucleus of the band had apparently been comprised of survivors from the royal army in Ostagar, led by a knight from Highever.

The Black Griffons had been too few to pose any real threat to Gwaren, but their continued raids had disrupted supplies and prevented Loghain from receiving much needed reinforcements for the war in the Bannorn. Now the civil war was over, but the rebels had apparently turned into simple outlaws, and continued their raids.

Anora had tried to organize her forces to root out these outlaws, but so far without success. The army of Gwaren, although professional and capable, had been decimated by the war and the Blight. Few of the best commanders were still alive. She'd also grudgingly been forced to accept that her skills as leader and Queen had not extended into military matters. What looked simple and elegant on a map would always be confounded by realities.

Anora heaved a sigh and dismissed Erlina. She looked out of the window into the night. Below her were a sea of lights from the city, and beyond that the blackness of the forest. Then she went to bed and tried to find relief in sleep from her frustration.

* * *

In the dark forest outside Gwaren, Michael Cousland waited, trying to concentrate and remain calm. His plan depended on surprise and he had to wait until almost all of Gwaren was asleep if he was to succeed. That meant he had to wait for hours until the time was right, something that always made him restless.

Michael had always been everything his elder brother Fergus wasn't. Where Fergus had been dependable and careful, Michael was mischievous and reckless. It had always been Michael who got them into trouble as kids and Fergus who got them out of it. Despite their differences, Michael had always loved his brother. The one thing they had always shared was an intense sense of loyalty.

Michael had cursed and begged his parents to be allowed to join his father and brother when the call had came from the King to fight against the darkspawn, but they had been adamant. Michael knew he could have talked his father into letting him go, but his mother was impossible to budge. Then, he had thought it unfair. Fergus was the dependable one. It should have been he who remained at Highever to rule in their father's place while Michael went to war.

Part of him suspected that it was his recklessness that made Eleanor forbid him to go to war. He had always been her favorite and she feared that he would get himself killed in the war. That was a dark irony of course, as he had defied his parents' will and gone to war anyway, and now he was the sole survivor of his family because of it.

He had sneaked away from Highever, the day before his father was to lead the army to join the King at Ostagar. When he arrived, Fergus had been away on a scouting mission and he'd found himself as acting captain of the forces from Highever, at least until his father arrived with the rearguard. His father, however, had never arrived, and while Michael wondered why, he was too thrilled by the fact that he would lead the knights of Highever in battle to be concerned.

He fought bravely at the doomed battle of Ostagar and observed firsthand how Teyrn Loghain betrayed the King and his army to their deaths. He had managed to rally a few dozen of his soldiers to fight themselves away from the terrible slaughter.

He had sworn he would take vengeance upon the traitorous Loghain, and in so doing, brought the remnants of his troops back to Highever. There he had received his next shock. Highever had fallen and men belonging to Arl Howe of Amaranthine had tried to kill them. From local peasants he learned that both of his parents had been slaughtered the night after he had left. Arl Howe claimed it had been the work of bandits, but Howe's men had been in control of the castle the day after and now controlled the whole of Highever, threatening anyone who resisted with death.

Michael had been forced to weigh his options. He wanted to avenge his family and punish the traitor Loghain, but was forced to admit that with a handful of soldiers under his command, he couldn't possibly hope to manage either of these goals. Gwaren was a land of great forests, however, and was subsequently dependant on a winding passage through the Brecilian forest for communication with the rest of the country. That should be the ideal place for a small but determined band of soldiers to strike at the enemy, and then use the nearby forest to conceal themselves.

Through persuasion and the force of his personality, he'd brought his little band through the Brecilian Passage and into Gwaren, and began his raids. For an entire year he had kept up his campaign against Teyrn Loghain. He lost many of his men, but had been able to replace them with a ragtag group of outlaws, refugees and malcontent soldiers.

It had been a hard time. He'd lived in the forest without any of the comforts he had grown accustomed to at home. He wasn't sure how much he'd actually been able to achieve, but at least he'd done something. If the alternative had been hiding and doing nothing, he would much rather have preferred the life of an outlaw, as long as he had a chance for action.

The previous week, one of his men who had entered Gwaren while disguised in order to collect rumors of possible targets, had returned with the startling news that Loghain's daughter, Queen Anora, had returned to Gwaren. No one knew exactly why yet, but Michael had suddenly seen the chance to do something decisive in the war against Loghain. If he could kidnap the Queen, and possibly hand her over to Loghain's enemies, it would be spectacular success.

His lieutenant, Ser Gavren, had tried to talk him out of it, calling him reckless and mad, but Michael refused to change his mind. Nothing could deter him from his purpose. In the end, Gavren had let him outline his plan and grudgingly conceded that it actually might work.

So now Michael and his men waited restlessly in the forest outside Gwaren for the city's inhabitants to go to sleep.

* * *

Finally, the lights in Gwaren went out one by one until just a few lamp posts were lit in the town. Michael signaled his men to follow him as they began to slowly, silently make their way out of the forest.

It had been a hot summer and the moat around the town was almost dry. When they had safely advanced within a few yards of the moat, hiding behind an empty outhouse, Michael carefully watched the sky. The moon lit the ground with its pale light, but the many clouds in the night sky soon obscured it, hiding it from view. Michael quickly led his men into the moat and started slowly creeping along it.

After about twenty yards, he reached his destination—a small opening in the city wall for sewage, covered by iron bars. Michael had scouted this location previously and was well aware the bars were rusty and would easily come off, allowing an agile man to slip through. Now he carefully bent and twisted two iron bars off and prepared to crawl in. He tied his swords to rope and then affixed other end of the rope to his waist before entering.

The sewer was smaller partially blocked by debris. For a moment, he was afraid that he'd be stuck in the passage and the whole plan would come apart, but then he managed to crawl through. He pulled the rope with his swords after him and armed himself once again.

Michael was now directly beneath the city wall. He didn't think all his men would be able to come through the hole without being discovered, and he didn't want to risk a bottleneck if they had to escape in a hurry, so his next target would be the guards on top of the wall.

He found a nearby tower in the wall with an entrance that must have stairs leading up to the wall itself. He carefully crept closer and peered inside. The tower was empty, except for some barrels and boxes of provisions and a ladder up to the next level. As soon as he was satisfied that the tower was empty, he entered and started to climb up the ladder as carefully as he could.

The ladder creaked noisily, despite his attempts to remain silent. For a moment he froze, but then he continued up quickly. His only chance if he was heard was to take whoever was up there by surprise. As his head peered up through the hole to the second level, he saw two guards sitting against the wall, sleeping, one of them having just opened a bleary eye to look at him.

"What the…?" the guard began, trying to shake himself awake.

That was as far as he would get. Michael leapt up from the ladder and drew his sword. The guard that had awoken first tried to fumble for his weapon, but Michael didn't give him a chance. He thrust his sword into the guard's neck, and the man fell with a gurgling sound as his life pumped out of the gash and splattered on the wall. In one fluid motion, Michael was already slashing the other guard, who mercifully died before even understanding what was happening.

Michael waited silently for a while, listening for sounds that would signal that he had been discovered. When he had heard nothing, he untied the rope he had previously tied his weapons with, from his waist. The rope was much longer than needed to just bring his swords through the sewage gate. Now he slipped out onto the wall and unrolled the rope's full length over the edge, gripping the end tightly, and lodging his feet against the wall.

One by one, his men climbed up the rope to him, until the whole group was up and inside the tower. Michael told two of the men to disguise themselves in the dead guards' uniforms before the bodies were dumped into the moat. He left the two disguised guards as well as two more men in the tower. He then set off with Ser Gavren and the other two men down the ladder once again.

Now that they were inside the town, their next objective was to find a way into the manor. He had a good idea where the private quarters of the Teyrn were, and led his men, carefully hiding amongst the shadows of the houses, towards the manor.


	2. Thieves in the Night

Chapter 2. Thieves in the Night.

When they reached the manor, they continued around the side towards a wall covered with thick vines. At the lower floors, the window slits were covered with iron bars or shut closed, but he could see that on the upper floors a few windows were open. He pulled sharply at the vines, testing their strength, and when he was satisfied, sheathed his swords on his back and began to climb up.

Ser Gavren and the other two men waited below, watching him climb up the side of the castle, using vines and cracks in the masonry to reach the top floor of the building. There he located an open window and climbed until he was hanging directly underneath it. He took a deep breath and then he heaved himself up and through the window, somersaulting onto the floor.  
A woman inside gasped and he saw the silhouette of someone sitting up in a bed. Michael quickly leaped onto the bed and pressed his hand over the woman's mouth. She squirmed under him, but he straddled her and his hands prevented her from making anything but muffled sounds of protest.

Apparently the woman realized that resistance was futile, because her squirming stopped and her body became quiet after a while. Michael drew a sword with one hand and held it against the woman's throat, and then carefully removed his other hand from her mouth. She was still. He then held his finger to his mouth, signing for her to be silent. The woman nodded.

Keeping the blade to her throat, he pulled two pieces of cloth from a pouch and stuffed one it into her mouth and then tied the other to hold it in place. When he was satisfied that she couldn't scream, he lowered his sword and tied her hands. He saw that the woman was an elf.

"Move or make a sound and you're dead," he whispered into her ear.

The elf woman nodded again. He guessed that she was no ordinary servant. She seemed resigned, but not nearly as frightened as she ought to have been, given the circumstances.

Then he produced his long rope again. He tied one end to the bed and threw the other end out of the window. After a little while, he heard the sounds of Ser Gavren and then his men climbing up the ladder.

When they were all inside the bedroom, Michael turned to the elf.

"Where is the Queen?" he asked her, whispering.

The woman's eyes widened and she shook her head.

"Tell me where Queen Anora is now or I'll slit your throat," Michael threatened her.

The elf woman still shook her head.

"Don't make it hard on yourself," he whispered menacingly. "We'll find her anyway."

The woman refused to respond, but Michael saw her eyes dart towards a door.

"You, hold her," he whispered to Ser Gavren as he moved towards the door. He saw the woman begin to squirm in Ser Gavren's arms and knew he probably had guessed right.

Carefully, he opened the door and peered into the room on the other side. It was a large bed chamber with a massive bed in the middle. He saw a small candle burning on a desk next to the bed, filling the room with a weak, but warm yellow light. He silently moved towards the table and the candle.

Suddenly, the woman moaned and tossed in the bed. Michael froze, nerves on edge. But when nothing more happened, he continued towards the table and picked up the candle. Mouth dry from the tension, he held the candle so he could see the woman's face. He immediately recognized the Queen's beautiful face, framed by her long golden hair.

He put down the candle again and stood still for a moment. Now that he was here, he almost hesitated. _This is insane_, he thought to himself. _Maker's breath, this is the Queen_. Then he dismissed those thoughts, and took a deep breath before he put his hand on her mouth.

"Don't move a muscle!" Michael hissed.

* * *

Anora woke up with her heart pounding. A calloused hand was pressed against her mouth and she was pinned down on her bed. Terrified, she struggled to free herself and scream for help, but her assailant was too strong.

"Be still, I won't hurt you," she heard him say, but Anora continued to struggle.

Her efforts made the hand over her mouth slip and she felt two of his fingers almost pushed into her mouth. Without thinking, she bit him as hard as she could. She heard him swear an oath, but the brief flash of hope was shattered as pain exploded in her head and almost made her lose consciousness.

He'd hit her temple with the pommel of his sword and the pain made her let his fingers loose. He pulled them away, but before she could collect herself enough to scream, she felt a piece of cloth being rudely forced roughly into her mouth. She almost gagged and her head throbbed from his blow.

More men came into her room and she saw one of them holding Erlina, who was also gagged and bound.

Her captor grimaced as he opened and closed the hand where she had bitten him. Then he looked at her.

"Listen carefully now, your Majesty," he said and looked her.

"I am Michael Cousland and these, as you may have guessed, are my Black Griffons. We're going to bring you with us for an… adventure, so to speak. I apologize for hitting you, but I do suggest that you cooperate, or I'll be forced to hurt you again."

Anora glared angrily at him, but couldn't think of anything else to do.

He tied her hands and roughly dragged her with him into Erlina's chamber. She saw a rope hanging out of the window.

Michael pushed her towards the window and started to climb out. Then he called to one of the other outlaws.

"Gavren, hand her to me."

The one called Gavren looked embarrassed as he approached her.

"I… uh… apologize for the inconvenience, your Majesty," he said and pushed her towards the window.

Michael hung on the rope with one hand and grabbed her by the waist with the other.  
She stared in fear as he pulled her out of the room. He grabbed her, legs flailing, and unceremoniously carried her on his shoulder.

"What do I do with the other?" Gavren called from above.

"Better bring her with you," Michael replied.

Then he pushed with his legs from the wall and slid down two yards, before he paused and turned to her.

"Be still, your Majesty, or I'll drop you to your death."

That made Anora stop squirming. As he brought them down the rope, she realized that he'd called her "your Majesty." But she was no longer Queen of Ferelden. What in the Maker's name was going on?

Once down, Michael waited for the others to follow. When they were all gathered, he dragged her with him, running between the houses towards the town wall. She tried to tear herself loose, but his grip was like iron. Once she stumbled and he halted to let her regain her footing, but otherwise he made her follow, running all the time.

When they reached the wall, Michael brought them to a tower. One of his men climbed up the ladder first and then he motioned for her to follow. She glared at him, showing him her tied hands. He nodded and brought a dagger from his belt and cut her hands loose. She turned towards the ladder, but just as she began to climb, he put his arm around her waist from behind her, holding the dagger to her throat with the other hand.

"Don't get any funny ideas, your Majesty. Just do as you're told and everything will be fine."

For a moment anger flared in her, when she felt the rude intimacy of his hold on her waist, but she forced herself to calm down and nod in agreement.

"The Queen is coming up now. Make sure she doesn't try to do anything foolish," Michael called up after her. Then he also began to climb up the ladder.

When Anora had climbed into the tower, she saw two men dressed as town guards. For a brief instant, hope flared in her and she believed that she would be saved, but then she saw the sneer on one of the guard's faces, and realized they were also involved in the attack.

As soon as Michael arrived after her, he tied her hands again, and motioned her out onto the wall. She saw the rope hanging down into the moat and stared at Michael in despair.

"My apologies, your Majesty," Michael said grinning as he grabbed her around the waist and put her on his shoulder once again.

Fighting tears of humiliation, Anora let herself be carried down the rope into the moat below.

When all members of Michael's band were down in the moat, including Erlina and Anora, Michael motioned for them to start moving towards the forest edge. Anora realized that this was her last chance to try and rouse the town guard to free her and desperately tried to tear herself free. She tried to get rid of the gag from her mouth and kicked a small barrel that fell over with a thud, but to no avail. No guards seemed to hear her and Michael was too strong. When she continued to struggle, he lifted her up in the air, and kicking in anger and humiliation, she was born away from her town.

She saw more outlaws waiting for them at the edge of the forest with horses.

"Maker's mercy, it's the Queen. They did it!" one of the waiting men said.

There was a chorus of muted cheers and clasped hands among the outlaws as they realized that their plan had actually worked so far.

"Don't relax yet," Michael said, and the outlaws immediately went silent. Anora recognized the command in his voice.

"Hurry up and get on the horses." Michael continued, "We want to be far away from here when the sun rises."

Michael untied Anora's hands and climbed upon a black courser. Then he held out his hand to Anora. She looked at him haughtily, without moving. Michael winked at her insolently and gestured for her to take his hand. For a moment she almost tried to bolt and run away from him, but she realized that there was no way to avoid even worse humiliation if she didn't do as he wanted.

Angrily, she relented and held out her hand and let him help her up onto his horse. Her back pressed against his chest and his arm around her waist, she sat stone faced as he spurred the horse forward into the night.


	3. Insult to Injury

Chapter 3. Insult to Injury

Anora lost track of time as they rode in the darkness along a series of winding paths through the forest. She almost fell asleep several times, and would have fallen off the horse if Michael hadn't held her tightly. It galled her to realize that his grip on her waist had actually saved her from a fall.

After about an hour, Michael removed her gag, but neither of them spoke during the entire ride. Anora wanted to ask him why they had abducted her and why they had insisted on calling her "Majesty," as if she still was Queen, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of talking civilly to him.

It was almost dawn when they reached the clearing where the outlaws had their camp. The outlaws in the camp hooted and cheered as they rode in. Some came crawling out of their tents, roused by the commotion. Many of them clustered around Michael and Anora to gawk at her.

"Back off!" Michael shouted and the men pulled back. "We're the Black Griffons, not some peasant rabble."

The men seemed to stiffen at Michael's command and slowly formed ranks.

"That's better," Michael said and smiled.

Then he jumped off the horse and held out his hand to Anora. She glared furiously at him, but after a moment's hesitation, she accepted his help. Her hands were still tied, and falling on her face as she tried to get off the horse in front of all of these outlaws would simply be too humiliating to bear.

"Your Majesty," Michael said, and made a mock bow, smiling at her when she was down on the ground.

"What is the meaning of this, villain?" Anora demanded.

"Why, I thought that it was perfectly clear, your Majesty. We've abducted you and you're now my prisoner. What exactly about your present status is unclear?"

"I know that, cretin. I'm not stupid! But who are you and what do you want?"

"As I told you before, I'm Michael Cousland of Highever, or at least recently so. You may not remember me, but I was at the ball in Denerim four years ago. I believe you wore a blue dress, but I'm not that good at remembering such things."

"You send armed men to abduct me from my own castle in the middle of the night and then you talk of what dress I wore at a ball. Are you insane?"

Anora gaped at him as if he were a lunatic. She'd heard of a Michael Cousland before. He was Bryce Cousland's wild younger son. Supposedly, he had died at Ostagar. But even if he had somehow survived, this made no sense.

"Why are you doing this? If you're indeed Michael Cousland, then you are by rights Teyrn of Highever now. Why in the Maker's name are you here in Gwaren as some sort of brigand?"

"Don't act like the fool, your Majesty," Michael said, his voice suddenly harsh. "Your father, Loghain, is a traitor and has seized the throne unlawfully in your name. His right hand man, Howe, massacred my family and I intend to claim vengeance from both of them. "

Anora shook her head disbelieving.

"Don't you know anything? My father is dead and I'm no longer Queen. Maric's bastard son, Alistair, has been elected King and now leads Ferelden against the Blight."

Michael halted and frowned.

"What crazy talk is that? Alistair? I've heard about a bastard son to Maric, but he was never acknowledged as heir, and as far as I know he was a servant or chantry ward. Are you trying to make me believe he's suddenly become King? That's ludicrous."

"I couldn't agree more," Anora said through clenched teeth. "Believe me. But it's still the truth. My father is dead and I've sworn fealty to King Alistair now. "

Michael regarded her silently for a long time, and then he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but that story is just too preposterous to believe without evidence," he said finally.

"What proof do you need?" Anora retorted angrily. "Shall I conjure Alistair with crown and all out of my pouch? Everybody knows about it—at least everybody except your band of lack-witted louts. Now release me and return me immediately, and I'll let you get away with a flogging."

"You'd better go easy on the empty threats as long as you are my prisoner. I'll send men to find out the truth in Gwaren, but until then you're my prisoner, and I advise you to behave yourself."

"Behave myself?" Anora said as her eyes narrowed in fury. "You abduct me, a Teyrna, out of my home, throw me on your shoulder like some common harlot, and you dare tell me to behave? I'll have your head for this!"

She raised her hand to slap him, but Michael caught her blow. She tried to tear her hand free, but he held her wrist in a steel grip. When she ceased struggling, he slowly released her hand and let her go.

"Don't do that again or I'll slap you myself next time," he said, holding her eyes with his glare.

Anora clenched her fists and returned his glare. For a moment she almost tried to strike him again, but she tossed her hair and turned away from him instead.

Michael made a slight mocking bow and turned to Ser Gavren.

"Get a tent for the Queen or Teyrna or... whatever she is, and her chamber maid. And put two guards on her."

Ser Gavren nodded, and after some grumbling protests, got two men to vacate a tent to make room for Anora and Erlina.

Michael showed them to the tent. Anora went to the tent and sat down on a box outside the tent opening, glaring at the outlaws. Erlina, however, remained standing next to Michael.

"Excuse me, Ser Michael," Erlina said, looking distressed. "I need to... relieve myself."

"Oh! I mean... of course," Michael replied, and suddenly looked embarrassed.

"Jenna! Taris!" Michael called loudly.

"What do you want, boss?" a woman clad in dark leather armor said. She and another female outlaw emerged from the group and walked up to Michael.

"You two will have no guard duty until further notice. Instead you are to be on call in case either of our two... guests needs something. The ladies are our prisoners and not to be left out of sight without armed guard, but we want to be as civilized as possible. There's no need to embarrass them by forcing them to wash or relieve themselves in front of the men."

"Thank you, ser," Erlina said gratefully to Michael, before leaving with one of the women.

"One more thing, Jenna," Michael called after Erlina's escort.

"Yes?"

"I'm your Captain, and I expect you to address me as such. Is that understood?"

"Yes... Captain," Jenna answered with a sigh.

"Good, carry on."

During the conversation, Anora had watched Michael carefully trying to take his measure. She couldn't make head or tails of him. First he acted like the most insolent peasant imaginable and the next moment he tried to be chivalrous.

Suddenly, she saw him look at her and come walking towards her. She looked away angrily.

"My lady, can we talk?" Michael said.

Anora pursed her mouth and looked at him.

"What about?" she asked haughtily.

"I'm prepared to give you and your chamber maid certain freedoms here, if you can give me your word you won't try to escape."

"What would be the point?" Anora snorted angrily. "You're a bandit and an outlaw. No one can expect me to keep my word to someone like you."

Anora noted with satisfaction that her words made Michael angry.

"Listen, Anora," Michael said grimly, "if you are indeed only Teyrna of Gwaren now, then I outrank you. My family has been one of Ferelden's noblest families since before King Calenhad, while you, Queen or not, are the daughter of traitorous peasant. "

Eyes blazing with fury, Anora slapped Michael.

"Don't you dare speak like that about my father!" she hissed. Then her eyes widened as Michael raised his hand.

"You wouldn't dare," she said with a touch of alarm in her voice. The next instant her cheek stung as he hit her with the flat of his hand.

She stared at him, momentarily at a loss for words. No one had ever done that to her, not for fifteen years, when her father, for the last time, had chastised her for almost setting fire to a barn with a candle once.

"I warned you, Anora," Michael said through his teeth. "Hit me and I hit back." Then he turned and walked away briskly, without looking back.

"You'll hang for this, bastard!" she screamed after him. "I'll see you flogged and quartered!"

If Michael had heard her, he didn't acknowledge it.


	4. Conflicting Thoughts

Chapter 4. Conflicting Thoughts

Michael walked a few yards into the woods, sat down on a tree stump, and took a deep breath. Maker's mercy, but Anora was something else. She certainly acted like she was queen of the world, whatever else she might claim to be.

_You'd think the woman would be a little less obnoxious, being held prisoner_, he thought. But no, not Anora_._ He didn't like hitting a woman like that, but, Maker, she had it coming.

The incident still left him with a bad feeling. She'd been infuriating and had questioned his honor, but he shouldn't have slurred her birth. He knew better. It galled him to have to apologize to Anora, but his father had raised him better than that.

He just wished he could wipe that conceited look off her face. Still irritated, he drew his swords and begun to methodically chop at the trunk of a nearby birch tree with his swords. Splinters flew as he worked the swords faster and faster, until the tree groaned and fell over.

The exercise left him hot and sweaty. Violence was a good way to relieve stress, he thought ruefully, and he needed it. Up until now, his plans had seemed straight forward: Capture the Queen and strike a blow against the tyrant. But what if Anora had spoken the truth? Then he'd have no choice except to release her. That would be some pickle.

Glumly, he considered his options. He would still need to raise an army to free Highever, and if word got out that he had abducted a teyrna without cause, his chances of getting this new king, Alistair, to help him with troops might be slim indeed.

He rose and went back to the camp. He wasn't going to give up, even if Anora's claim proved to be true. He'd just have to find another way to get what he wanted, and he wasn't going to let an angry, possibly former, queen get in his way.

When he got back to camp, he realized that he was really exhausted. He'd been up all night and now that the rush of the abduction and subsequent escape was over, he felt his body heavy from lack of sleep.

He told Ser Gavren he was in charge and then crawled into his tent. The last thing he did before closed the tent flaps was to look at Anora again. She sat on the small box and her maid servant was busy braiding her hair. He had to admit that even in a now, wearing a smudged nightgown, she didn't hurt to look at all. Too bad she was such a pain.

* * *

Anora tried in vain to relax as Erlina carefully combed and braided her hair. Her eyes stung with tears of rage and humiliation as she remembered Michael's slap on her cheek. How dare he do such a thing, and then claim that his titles made him nobler than her?

For a time, she closed her eyes and tried to conjure the image of Michael being stripped and flogged, his naked back striped with blood. But while it brought her a certain amount of satisfaction to indulge in such fantasies, it didn't really calm her down.

Erlina sensed her mistress's distress and tried to soothe her.

"Don't despair, my lady, it could have been worse," Erlina said as she finished the braids and carefully rolled them into two tight buns.

"Just how can things possibly be worse?" Anora snorted irritably. "I have lost the crown that's rightfully mine, been banished to this backwater, and now some bandit lout has abducted me and is keeping me prisoner in the middle of the woods. I can't imagine how it can get worse than this."

"With all due respect, my lady, but however much I resent being abducted, I think that we could be far worse off if we had been captured by ordinary brigands. At least Ser Michael doesn't seem intent on causing us bodily harm."

"Oh, really? He's already laid hands on me," Anora replied angrily and rubbed her cheek.

Privately, Anora began to wonder if it had been such a good idea to let Michael Cousland know that she was no longer Queen. If she'd been Queen and a prisoner of war, he wouldn't dare harm her. But if she was Teyrna and had sworn Alistair fealty, he could no longer legitimately hold her prisoner. Maybe he would even be tempted to kill her to hide his crime.

Despite her anger at Michael, she couldn't ignore the knot of worry in her belly. Michael seemed have no respect at all for her position. Technically, it was possible that he was Teyrn of Highever if he indeed was a Cousland. He would be powerful enough to get away with any lie if killed her, but would he really be capable of killing her?

Anora forced herself to stop worrying. She could not afford to be weak now. She would be strong, that's how she had survived everything that had befallen her until now. Michael Cousland was just one more annoying obstacle on her path she would have to overcome.

Eventually she calmed down enough to feel fatigue overcome her.

"Erlina," she said and yawned. "I need to rest now."

"Yes, my lady," Erlina replied. "With your permission, I'll rest now, as well."

Anora rose and crawled into their tent, followed by Erlina. It was small and the bedroll seemed thin and uncomfortable. She caught the smell of unwashed bodies from the blanket. For a moment, she considered demanding new linens, but she could already see the sneer on Michael's face in her mind. Instead, she lay down and pulled the blanket over herself.

"I will see him hanged, Maker help me, but I will see him flogged and hanged for this," she mumbled to herself as she closed her eyes. In her dream, she ripped his shirt off and lashed him herself until quivering, he begged for mercy.

* * *

When Erlina woke, she wasn't certain at first where she was. The tent was dark and her body felt stiff. She heard Anora moan something unintelligible in her sleep. Then she remembered everything that had happened. With a sigh, she crawled out from under the blanket.

She realized she was hungry again. She peered out of the tent to look for one of the women who were supposed to attend to them, but could only see two male outlaws sitting on a log watching the fire.

Erlina crawled out of the tent and went over to them.

"Excuse me," she said. "Could you please call for one of the ladies who were supposed to guard us? I would like something to eat."

One of the outlaws looked up and leered at her.

"Don'tcha know it's the woods here, knife-ear?" he said nonchalantly. "Pampered servants better get used to it. If you want food, you have to dig up the leftovers."

"I just wish some simple food," Erlina said angrily. "Your captain said one of the women here would attend me."

"Ooh," the outlaw replied and rose. "Putting on airs, are we? Just because you're some palace servant doesn't mean you're not a knife-ear slut. I know what you're hungry for," he said and smiled evilly.

"You wouldn't dare," Erlina hissed. "Your captain would never allow it." Inside she was cold with fear however. She was the Teyrna's maid servant and Ser Michael had seemed to mean well, but she was still just an elf and now she was at the mercy of these men.

"The capt'n won't mind if we have a bit o' fun. Besides, he ain't here anyway."

"Wrong on both accounts!" Michael said furiously as he walked straight to them.

"Capt'n, we just..."

The outlaw didn't have time to finish his sentence, before Michael punched him so hard that he flew backwards and crashed into bench behind him.

"You stupid fuck!" Michael shouted, shaking with rage. "No one lays a hand on a woman in my camp! I told you the rules when you and your miserable band joined us."

The outlaw tried to sit up, but he was still dazed.

"Get yourself up and apologize to this woman," Michael continued. "I will not tolerate such behavior in my company."

"But, Capt'n," the other man tried to interject, "he was wrong, but it was just a knife-ear."

"Even if that woman is an elf," Michael said coldly, "she still deserves respect. And no more talk of knife-ears here."

By now, Michael's angry shouts had awoken the whole camp, even Anora, who peered out of the tent to see what was happening.

"These are the rules in my company: No one mistreats a prisoner and no one tries to abuse a woman just because she's an elf. Anyone else who has a problem with that had better pack their things and leave now, because the next one I see abusing this woman, I'll kill on the spot. Is that understood?"

As he spoke, Michael glared at the other outlaws, but no one dared to challenge him. The man he had hit managed to rise and looked sullenly at Michael, but didn't say anything to him. Instead, he turned towards Erlina.

"My apologies, woman. I didn't mean no harm," he said between clenched teeth.

Erlina nodded without looking at him.

"Good. Now is Jenna or Taris here?" Michael continued. "This woman needs some food."

As one of the women assigned to escort the prisoners hastened to them, Erlina turned towards Michael.

"Thank you, Ser Michael," she said and curtseyed to him.

"Don't thank me, but please accept my apologies for the incident," Michael replied dismissively.

* * *

During the entire incident, Anora had watched the scene carefully. This was not what she had expected. First he abused and hit her, and then he acted perfectly chivalrously towards her servant.

It galled her to see Erlina curtsey and act grateful to him. Surely Erlina couldn't be such a fool as to let his antics make her forget he was the man who had abducted and manhandled them both.

Grudgingly, she had to admit that Michael Cousland was obviously no ordinary brigand. She hadn't seen anyone order about men like he did except her own father. She could see why they followed him. He had that same aura of command as her father did when he had led his men.

Then she tossed her head dismissively. Brigand or knight, he was still her enemy and she would have her revenge on him before this was over.


	5. Dressed for the Occasion

Chapter 5. Dressed for the Occasion

When Erlina returned, Michael nodded and smiled at her. Then he waved her over. Erlina carefully approached him.

"Yes, ser?" she said to him.

"What's your name, my lady?" he asked with a friendly smile.

"My name is Erlina, ser," she answered him. "But I'm no lady. I'm just my lady's maid servant."

"Well, lady or not, I think it would be rude to keep you running around in your nightshirt all day. I believe we have a chest full of assorted clothes that we've… appropriated during our campaign here. Merchant's goods. Feel free to look for something to wear if you want."

For moment, Michael's eyes drifted towards Anora, who still sat outside the tent, glaring.

"That goes for your mistress, too, of course," he finished.

"Thank you, ser," Erlina said gratefully.

At Michael's call, two of the Black Griffons brought a huge chest to the captives' tent. Erlina opened it and found a wide assortment of fine garments inside. Most of the clothes were too big for Erlina, more suited for humans, but after searching a bit she found a dress that probably had been meant for a nobleman's teenage daughter.

Anora had watched Erlina without moving, but when Erlina retreated into the tent, she got up and started looking through the garments as well. Eventually she chose two dresses and followed Erlina inside the tent.

Erlina had just put on the green dress she had found and was smoothing the fabric when Anora entered. She smiled at her mistress, but Anora didn't return it. Mouth pursed in disapproval, she tried on a red dress she'd chosen.

"My lady," Erlina said with trepidation. "Are you sure you want to wear that dress?"

"Why do you ask?" Anora replied haughtily. "We're in a bandit camp. It's not like I can go out and order a ball gown from a seamstress."

"I know, my lady," Erlina answered and chewed her lip. Anora's red dress was rather low cut and hugged her body tightly. "It's just that maybe this dress is a bit… revealing."

"It's the only decent dress that fit me," Anora explained airily.

Erlina decided there was no point in mentioning that it was the only dress Anora had tried on.

* * *

When the two captives emerged from the tent, Michael watched them with some curiosity. He almost whistled to himself when he saw Anora. Maker's mercy, but she certainly looked good in the dress she'd found. It was really way too revealing for a queen to wear, but she managed to somehow look both regal and saucy in it at the same time.

Anora seemed to notice his stare and lifted her chin contemptuously, and he quickly collected himself. Maybe she was even dressing up like that to throw him off balance and make him let her go. That wasn't going to happen, though. Good looking or not, she was still his captive and best bargaining chip to get the only thing that really mattered to him—regaining Highever and restoring the Cousland family.

He wandered over to them, ignoring Anora's glares and turned towards Erlina instead.

"We're of course short on the kind of comforts you ladies are used to. But should you wish to wash yourselves, Jenna and Taris can escort you to the pond. You can bathe and wash there if you wish."

"Thank you, ser, that's good to know" Erlina replied.

"Shall I call for them now, perhaps?" Michael asked her.

Erlina glanced nervously at Anora, who shrugged noncommittally and continued to look away.

"Maybe later," Erlina said politely.

Michael nodded and looked at Anora, admiring her figure, until she suddenly seemed to notice his looks. She glared at him, and then walked away contemptuously. Michael looked after her and then he turned and headed towards his own tent.

Ser Gavren waited for him next to his tent. Michael could see that he looked distressed.

"Captain," Ser Gavren began. "I'm sorry. You left me in command and I should've been the one to stop that imbecile."

Michael smiled and shook his head dismissively.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Gavren. You can't be everywhere. I'm the Captain and I'm responsible for teaching these men to respect orders."

"Yes, but Captain," Ser Gavren continued, "I… I'm tired, and sometimes, I think I almost forget why we're doing this—that we're soldiers from Highever, not just brigands. And now we've maybe abducted the rightful Teyrna of Gwaren. Where will it end, Michael?"

"It'll end when we've retaken Highever," Michael said, "and we will. I'm a Cousland and as long as I draw breath, I'll not accept enemies ruling Highever."

"So what do we do if she's really telling the truth? We'll need an army to free Highever, and this isn't helping."

"I don't know, but I'll think of something. I'll find an army, one way or another."

Ser Gavren nodded, but didn't seem fully convinced. He looked at Erlina who waited alone by her tent. Michael saw him look at the elf.

"Gavren," he said softly. "If you wish to apologize to the elf, then by all means do so, but don't betray any information to her. We may need to play this carefully, and until I've figured out how to solve this, the less our captives know the better."

Gavren nodded and looked at Erlina for a while, and then he shrugged.

* * *

It was almost evening, and due to the strange hours they'd been keeping, they'd only recently gotten up. One large, burly outlaw named Jared had begun put a score of large skewers with meat and vegetables on the bonfire in the middle of the camp. Soon the delightful aroma of roasted meat filled Anora's nostrils and she realized that she was famished.

As the other outlaws gathered around the bonfire to eat, Michael grabbed two skewers and brought them to Anora and Erlina who sat waiting outside their tent. Erlina gratefully accepted the food, but Anora at first tried ignore him. She hated the idea of accepting anything from him, but in the end hunger won over pride. Just as he seemed to give up and leave, she stretched out her hand and grabbed the last skewer.

Once everyone had eaten, the outlaw camp began to relax. One man started to pluck on a lute, while some played a dice game. Throughout the evening, Anora sat glumly watching the outlaws. As dusk fell, and her captors began to prepare for the night, Anora felt her frustration and anger grow. Being forced to sit and wait inactive was grating on her.

As they had slept through half the day, Anora couldn't sleep either. As darkness fell, the drone of crickets filled the air. The men left the bonfire, one by one, until only Michael and Gavren remained. Anora watched him for a while, then pursed her mouth, rose, and walked over to Michael.

"I need to speak to you," she demanded.

Michael looked at her for a moment and then he shrugged and motioned her to sit down.

"What do you need to speak about?" he asked.

"What do you intend to do with us once you've received confirmation that I speak the truth?"

Michael looked at her for a moment. She felt her cheeks colour as his eyes seemed to wander across her body.

"I'll think about it when that time comes," he said finally, nonchalantly.

Anora felt her anger rise, but forced herself to calm down.

"You do realize that it will only be worse for you if you don't let us go as soon as possible?" she asked.

When Michael didn't respond, she continued.

"You're a Cousland, so your goal must be to regain Highever. You only risk the King's wrath by holding me captive."

Michael looked at her, and then shook his head and snorted.

"Are you suggesting that if I let you go now, you'll forget this misunderstanding and happily support my claim for Highever?" Michael replied disdainfully.

Anora opened her mouth and then closed it, glaring at him.

"I'm saying you gain nothing, but angering me further will only hurt your cause," she said finally.

"Now you listen to me, my lady. Right now I'm in charge here. If and when I release you, it'll be on my terms. Besides," Michael said and eyed her brazenly, "I might enjoy keeping you here."

"You insolent cad! No real nobleman would stare so rudely at a defenceless woman like you do!" she said angrily.

"Well," Michael replied and his smile widened. "No real noblewoman would flaunt her bosom like you do."

"This... this is all your fault!" Anora said angrily and felt herself flush. "It's the only dress you had that fit me!"

"If you say so," Michael replied with a shake of his head.

"You-!" Anora's eye flashed angrily, but suddenly Michael waved dismissingly and rose.

"I've got no time for this," he continued. "I'm going to wash and rest."

She heard him walk away behind her and then the splashing of water. She remained unmoving, but in the end her curiosity got the better of her and she stole a glance behind her. She saw him standing next to a huge water barrel. He had stripped his tunic off and his naked back glistened with water. His head was tilted backwards as he gulped from a ladle. For a moment she just stared, then she tore her eyes away from him, face flushed.

She cursed herself silently. What was wrong with her? She hated him and wanted to punish him, didn't she?

He suddenly became silent behind her. For a little while she remained still, but the she couldn't resist a second glance. He was still naked to the waist, but something had changed in his body language. He stared intently at the woods, and then he knelt and picked up his swords.

Anora wanted to ask him what it was, but before she could he had motioned to Ser Gavren to come.

"Are you expecting trouble, Captain?" Ser Gavren whispered when he reached Michael.

"Something's wrong," Michael whispered. "The crickets are silent."

Anora suddenly realized that it was true. The constant droning from the crickets had stopped.

"Quick," Michael hissed. "Rouse the men. Something's coming."


	6. Dangers in the Dark

Chapter 6. Dangers in the Dark

Anora saw Michael remove the swords from his scabbards and then stand ready, still looking at the forest edge. Behind him she saw men crawl out of the tents and mutter lowly as they fumbled for their weapons.

Suddenly Anora heard the sounds of movement from the forest—guttural sounds of bestial voices mixed with trampling feet and snapping twigs. Her blood froze as she realized what it must be.

Michael moved quickly over to one of the tents, grabbed an extra sword and then hurried towards her.

"Darkspawn," he whispered, then he held the spare sword towards her, hilt first.

Anora looked at the sword with eyes wide, then she nodded and took it. Michael smiled at her and then headed towards the place where the rest of the outlaws were gathering.

The sounds of the approaching darkspawn rose and now she could see torches flicker between the dark tree trunks. Suddenly one of them howled like a demon and was answered by a chorus of guttural yells. Snarling like beasts, the darkspawn began to run towards the camp.

Michael looked down at his bare torso and seemed to consider it. He frowned, and Anora realized he must have wanted his armor, but didn't have time to put it on. He motioned for his men to spread out and then turned towards two of his men.

"You and you, protect the ladies at all costs, and yell if you need help!" he shouted and then turned to face the oncoming Darkspawn.

When the darkspawn were almost upon them, Michael yelled and charged directly at them. He brought down his swords one by one, like two arcs of steel merging without clashing. The first darkspawn he met tried to parry his blows clumsily, but it was cut down almost instantly by Michael's swiftly flashing blades.

Anora couldn't make out the size of the attacking force, but the oncoming tide of darkspawn didn't seem to stop. She saw Erlina huddle by their tent and moved to protect her. She could see Michael, still fighting bare-chested, run into a throng of foes and spin his swords left and right. He seemed almost charmed as he constantly ducked away from his clumsier opponent's blows.

Then a thundering bellow that almost deafened her was heard from the forest and a massive figure appeared between the trees.

Anora realized immediately that it must be an ogre. She had seen a dead ogre before, but nothing could have prepared her for the massive bulk that came crashing out of the forest.

The ogre lunged for one of the outlaws and pulled the screaming man up in the air. In one awful motion, it raised the man to its mouth and bit his head off. Then the ogre waved the dead body as a club, bellowing as blood sprayed from the outlaw's neck.

"Get away from the ogre!" Michael shouted. "Stay out its reach! Let the crossbows take it out from afar!"

Most of the outlaws near the ogre backed away from it, while a few men shot crossbow bolts at it. One of the shooters was one of the men set to guard Anora and Erlina. His bolt hit the ogre in the chest. The monster roared in pain and then looked at them. With sick fascination, Anora watched the towering beast lower its head and began to charge towards them.

Anora tore herself from the sight and began to move out of the beast's charge when she suddenly saw a figure leap up behind the ogre. As the ogre entered the light from the bonfire, she saw that it was Michael who had actually jumped up onto the beast's back, and plunged a sword with both hands into its neck, almost to the hilt.

The ogre roared in agony and lunged after Michael with its huge fist, but he had already rolled away and landed on the ground. The ogre turned to look for its tormentor as another crossbow bolt found its mark. The ogre spotted Michael's prone form and raised its fist to slam him, blood spraying from the wound near the neck. Anora's heart almost stopped as the ogre slammed its fists to the ground, but somehow Michael again managed to roll away from the attack.

"Keep firing!" Michael yelled.

The ogre stood swaying as more bolts hit it, then it bellowed once more in anger and pain, and lowered its head for another charge straight at Michael just as he got up. This time Michael didn't roll away. Instead he dropped down under the ogre's head, holding his remaining sword clutched in both hands. The ogre almost impaled itself on Michael's sword and it collapsed, gushing more dark blood from its chest, sliced open by Michael's sword.

In the meantime, all the other darkspawn that hadn't been killed had fled back into the woods. The surviving outlaws gathered cautiously around the fallen ogre.

"Don't just stand there!" Anora commanded them. "Michael's underneath the monster. Quickly, free him!"

Spurred into action by Anora's command, the men lifted up the ogre's arm and revealed Michael's battered torso.

"Does he live?" she asked anxiously.

One of the men bent down to check for breath, when Michael suddenly coughed and opened his eyes.

For a moment Anora was elated and took a step towards him, and then she caught herself and retreated confused. What was wrong with her? If he had died, things would have been a lot easier. She would no doubt have been able to convince her captors to let her go, as long as Michael was gone.

She looked at him again, as they helped him. For some reason his bare chest splattered by the ogre's blood reminded her of the dream where she had been punishing him for what he'd done. Shaking her head in confusion, she retreated and let the Black Griffons take care of Michael.

* * *

Michael leaned on Gavren's shoulder, trying to regain his breath.

"Are you all right, Captain?" Gavren said, looking concerned at him.

"I... I think so, Gavren. I might have cracked a rib or two, and I certainly had the wind knocked out of me, but nothing major I think. How's everyone else?"

"We lost Reyn and Torun, Captain," Gavren replied a little sadly. "But otherwise I think we're good."

Michael swore silently. Reyn had been a good man, one of the men from Highever who had been with him since Ostagar. He had been stocky and sometimes unimaginative, but loyal and with a heart of gold. Torun had been an escaped convict. He had been a scoundrel, but Michael knew that he had woken something in the man's heart, when he had treated him as a brother and a soldier. He had been loyal to him. Now they were both dead. Two more faces added to the never-ending list of those who had died for his war. Death was a natural part of war, but he still hated it.

Then he looked down at himself and at the others.

"Right, everyone take turns to go down to the pond. We need to wash off all this tainted blood before something horrible happens. "

Then he turned towards the captives and looked at them. He realized that Anora still held the sword in her hand. He felt a strange sensation inside himself as he saw her stand there in the low cut red dress with sword in hand. She was a proud, strong and beautiful woman, he realized. In fact she was unlike any woman he'd ever met before. For a moment he felt ashamed to be holding her captive like this, but then he steeled himself. He couldn't let her go until he had found a way to use her to save Highever.

But before he put her out of his thoughts, he walked over to her. She turned her face and gave him a strange look.

"My lady," he said. "Your sword."

Anora looked down at the sword and eyes widened as if she hadn't realized that she was still armed. She hesitated for a moment and Michael suddenly realized that he was not armed himself. Slowly she raised the sword, point first, and looked at him with an unreadable expression. Then she gave a little toss of her head and flipped the sword so that she held it to him hilt first instead.

Michael raised an eyebrow. The motion had been enough to convince Michael she knew a lot more about sword fighting than he had initially given her credit for. He took the sword from her carefully. For a moment, his fingers brushed hers as he gripped the sword. She drew her hand back as if she'd been stung.

"Thank you, my lady," he said quietly.

Then turned away from her and took a deep breath. That woman was big trouble. The sooner he could find a solution to this mess the better.

Ser Gavren had already begun sending men away to wash the blood and filth of the darkspawn away in the pond. Some of them were collecting dead bodies and placing them in a heap at the edge of the clearing. Others gathered wood for a large bonfire. Some of the worst soiled clothes and items were added to the pile. At the top of the pile they placed the bodies of the dead men, covered in two tattered mantles, bearing the arms of Highever. Then they poured oil on everything and Gavren lit the bonfire. A foul stench of smoke and burning flesh filled the camp.

Michael watched the flames rise higher into the night, then he went over to the path that led to the pond. He felt a headache growing as he reached the water's edge. The adrenaline was leaving his body and he felt weary. He simply dropped his breeches and walked straight out into the water, until it reached his waist. Then he carefully tried to wash the filth away from himself. He had a long red gash on his chest, where the ogre's claw had opened a long wound in his skin. He rubbed the edges of the wound to let fresh blood help wash away the remaining taint.

When he felt reasonably sure he was clean, he grabbed a fresh pair of breeches he had brought along and put them on.

When Michael returned to the camp he tossed his old breeches onto the bonfire and sat down on a barrel. He tried to apply a bandage to his chest wound, but it was awkward. He saw Anora out of the corner in his eye and she seemed agitated. She paced back and forth, looking his way now and then.

Finally she put on a determined face and picked up a piece of cloth and a jug. Then she walked straight towards him with her mouth pursed. He rose to meet her.

"Sit down!" she said resolutely.

Her tone was so commanding that he sat down on the barrel without thinking about it. Curiously, he looked at her as she opened the jug and poured liquor on the piece of cloth she'd brought.

"You're even more foolish than I thought," she said in a matter of fact tone. "You can't be sure all the taint is gone from a wound like that with only water."

He shivered a little as her fingers touched the wound, then grimaced as she applied the cloth and the alcohol stung him. Caked blood came off and fresh flowed from the wound, which she carefully removed by applying the drenched cloth again.

Michael bore the treatment without complaint, even if the wound burned from the alcohol. Finally Anora seemed satisfied and put down the cloth. She carefully checked the wound. His skin felt hypersensitive around the wound and her questing fingers made him jump.

"Sit still!" she commanded, her voice oddly husky.

He forced himself to not move as she traced the edge of the wound with her finger tips. He realized that she was bent over him in a way that allowed him a generous view of her bosom.

_Maker's mercy, _he thought to himself. _What's wrong with this woman? One moment she wants to kill me, the next she treats my wounds._ Then he took another long look at the view of her breasts the low cut dress offered. If only she wasn't so damned attractive, he groaned inwardly.

Suddenly Anora straightened. For a moment she looked a little disoriented, but then her eyes opened wide as she realized Michael had been looking down her dress. Shock gave way to resentment and she glared at him before quickly turning away.

"Let someone else put that bandage on, and you should be fine now," she said quickly and left him.

Michael stared at her back, trying to compose himself.

"Thank you, Anora, I mean... my lady" he called after her. "You tend wounds well."

It's nothing," she answered, without looking back. "It's something you had to pick up if you grew up in my father's household."

Michael continued to watch their tent long after Anora and Erlina had disappeared inside it.


	7. Attracting Forces

Chapter 7. Attracting Forces.

Anora awoke in a bad mood. She'd slept poorly and had been disturbed by dreams. She could only vaguely recall the content of the dreams, but Michael Cousland had played an annoyingly big part in all of them.

She sat up and felt her clothes itch uncomfortably. She realized that she really needed to clean herself up. Her captors had mentioned a pond for bathing and cleaning. Normally she would never have considered simply wading into a lake, where anyone could see her, to wash, but she couldn't be picky now. Both her hair and her clothes felt dirty and carried a pungent smell of smoke, sweat and dirt.

Anora watched Erlina, who still slept peacefully, before crawling out of the tent. Outside she saw that Michael and Gavren were already up. She felt a strange surge inside, when she saw Michael laugh at something Gavren had said. Angrily, she clenched her fists. Then she walked haughtily up to them.

"I wish to bathe," Anora said in a commanding voice. "Please call one of the female guards to escort me."

Michael looked at her for a moment. At first his eyes met hers, but then they wandered down. Her cheeks colored as she felt him eying her.

"Well," she said irritably. "Call someone then!"

Michael hesitated for a moment and then seemed to collect himself. He nodded at her.

"Janna!" he called. "The lady here wishes to refresh herself. Take her to the pond. "And," he added after a short pause, "make sure she gets some privacy. She's a teyrna, or a queen."

Anora waited for the outlaw woman to come and then followed her down the path to the pond.

Once they had walked down the path for a short time, Anora saw the patches of blue behind the green branches, then the forest opened up in front of her and she could see a patch of open ground at the edge of a pond.

Anora looked suspiciously around. Stripping and just wading into a lake to bathe like this went against all her ingrained propriety. She couldn't detect any suspicious sound or movement though, only the female outlaw who guarded her with a slightly bored look on her face.

Finally she put down the bundle with the new dress she had picked from the clothing chest and a linen, removed her dress and undergarments and picked up the small bar of soap she had been provided. Naked, she stepped into the water and began to wade out into the pond. The water was cold, but not uncomfortably so. She swam a few strokes and then she put down her feet again and stood with water up to her navel.

She looked at the lush green forest that surrounded the pond as she began to unbraid her hair. Standing there, bared to the waist, she felt vulnerable. Angrily she remembered how Michael had practically undressed her with his eyes and had openly stared at her breasts. It would be so typical of him to caution his men to be chivalrous, only to come down to stare at her himself.

When she had finished unbraiding her hair, she took a deep breath and plunged her head into the water to wash her hair. When she lifted her head again, she tossed her wet hair behind her back. Still facing away from the path leading back to the camp, the image of Michael came back to her. She could almost feel his gaze, shamelessly taking in her nakedness. She suddenly became convinced that he was really standing behind her, staring.

For a moment she hesitated and then collected herself, clenched her fists, and turned around defiantly to walk back out of the water.

The only person there was the same female outlaw as before, guarding her clothes. Confused and annoyed, she quickly dried herself to hide her embarrassment. It had seemed so real and yet she'd only imagined things. She cursed herself silently. Why did she let that disgusting man creep under her skin like that? She had to get out of this horrible mess and soon.

* * *

Back in the camp Michael stared at the edge of the clearing with the path down to the pond where Anora had disappeared. Maker help him, but she really was an attractive woman. She held herself like a queen, he thought, whatever had befallen her now.

He closed his eyes and saw her breasts framed by the edges of the dress. He imagined her standing at the edge of the pond, sensuously removing the dress and then, naked, stepping into the water, slowly turning to show her...

"Um… Captain?" Ser Gavren said, clearing his throat.

Startled, Michael broke out of his reverie and turned embarrassed to look at his lieutenant. He had been too long without a woman.

"Yes, Gavren," he said with feigned nonchalance.

"Do you expect… trouble, from the Queen?" Gavren said and hinted at the path Michael had been watching.

"Oh, she's trouble all right," Michael said to himself and then realized that he'd said it out loud.

"What do you mean, Captain?" Ser Gavren wondered.

Michael shook his head and waved it off.

"Never mind. Anora's no doubt a troublesome prisoner, but I don't expect her to be any more trouble now than usual. It's not like a queen is going to try and run away naked into the forest.

"Well, I guess so," Ser Gavren answered unconvinced. "But technically she may not be a queen anymore."

"Oh, she's without a doubt a queen," Michael whispered softly. Then he turned and left Ser Gavren alone before he could be questioned about his last comment.

As he walked away, he wondered if the men he sent to Gwaren would return soon. Not that he really doubted anymore that Anora had spoken the truth. The stories from her and Erlina were too consistent. He still needed to think and come up with a plan to make the most of this tricky situation.

Michael even contemplated promising to let Anora go in return for support from Gwaren to retake Highever, but he couldn't think of a way to ensure that she would keep the bargain, short of holding her hostage. He really didn't think that would work though. If he was accompanied by Anora's troops, he would be as much a hostage as she would.

* * *

Ser Gavren watched Michael leave and then he shook his head in bewilderment. He would follow him to the end of the world because of the oath he had taken once to Michael's father, Bryce Cousland, but also because he truly admired him as a loyal and imaginative leader. But ever since he'd hatched this plan to capture the Queen, Michael had seemed distracted and not himself.

He sighed. Michael had led them well so far and it was no point in trying to second guess him now. He was about to go and check the remains of the bonfire they had lit that night to dispose of the dead darkspawn and tainted clothes when he saw Erlina, the Queen's pretty chambermaid, sitting on a log outside the captives' tent looking glumly at the camp.

He was still ashamed by how that soldier had treated her and realized that he still hadn't told her so and apologized. He thought about it for a moment and then went over to her.

"My lady," Ser Gavren said. "May I… have a word with you?"

Erlina looked up at him quizzically.

"I don't see that I'm in a position to deny you," Erlina said after a moment's pause. "I'm your captive after all."

"Hrm, yes," Ser Gavren said and suddenly felt a little embarrassed. "I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am you had to suffer such abuse from one of our men, yesterday. You're our prisoners, but that's no excuse for such behaviour."

"Think nothing of it, ser," Erlina said and smiled. "In truth, your captain has treated us very well, I think, at least as well as any man can treat an enemy in war."

"You are gracious, my lady," Ser Gavren said and bowed slightly.

An awkward silence settled between them.

"I'm glad you're taking it like this," Ser Gavren said finally. "Your mistress, if I may say so, isn't quite as gracious about it."

Erlina cocked her head and looked at him. Then she smiled and motioned him to sit down beside her.

"My lady is a... determined woman. She's been Queen and that's not something one easily forgets."

Ser Gavren nodded.

"I suppose that she can't be expected to accept captivity graciously then. Besides, she seems to reserve most of her venom for our captain. She must hate him, she glares at him so."

"I don't know," Erlina said thoughtfully. "She glares a lot, but she's always looking at him when she thinks no one's watching."

Ser Gavren nodded beside her.

"I... I noticed that about Michael, too. He's always looking at her. If it wasn't them, you'd almost think they're... you know... attracted to each other."

Erlina looked questioning at him and then nodded slowly.

"It seems a ludicrous thought," she said, "but I wonder if maybe you're onto something."

"Really?" Ser Gavren replied and raised an eyebrow.

"It's possible that they are attracted to each other," Erlina said finally. "Maybe they're just too proud and stubborn to admit it."

"If that's true, someone should talk to them and make them admit it," Gavren said finally.

"Maker's breath," Erlina said and shook her head. "I'm not going to be the one to try to tell that to Teyrna Anora. She'll kill me if I suggested that. Would you tell Ser Michael?"

Ser Gavren shook his head vigorously.

"Not a chance!"

They sat there together silently, both lost in thought. Ser Gavren stole a look at Erlina. For an elf, she was really quite pretty, he thought.

"So what now?" he asked finally.

"We just wait and hope that they come their senses, I suppose," Erlina sighed, "before they kill each other."

At that moment Michael returned to the camp, just as Anora came back from her swim in the pond from the other direction. They stared at each other for a short moment and then Anora put her chin up and looked away from him, while Michael found a sudden interest in some weapons carelessly left on the ground.

Ser Gavren and Erlina looked at each other and sighed.

Then Gavren rose from the log and bowed to Erlina.

"I... I wish we could have met under different circumstances, my lady," he said awkwardly.

"So do I, ser," Erlina replied and smiled at him.

Suddenly Gavren heard the sound of approaching horsemen. He instinctively grabbed the hilt of his sword, but then he heard the distinctive bird call they used to identify friends. The men Michael had sent to Gwaren to find out the truth about their prisoner had returned.


	8. Alliance of Convenience

Chapter 8. Alliance of Convenience

The two men dismounted and approached Michael. He threw a glance at Anora who was watching them intently. Michael frowned and motioned for the two men and Ser Gavren to follow him away from others.

When they were out of hearing range from the rest of the camp, Michael turned towards the men and looked at them.

"Let's hear it, then," Michael said looking intently at the men. "What have you learned?"

"Captain, it's just as the Queen, I mean the lady, said," one of the men replied. "Everyone in Gwaren knows that Anora's sworn fealty to this King Alistair and is now Teyrna of Gwaren."

Michael nodded grimly. It had seemed like such an excellent coup, but the reality was that he had been sloppy and not gathered enough facts before kidnapping Anora.

"What of her disappearance? What are they saying about that?" he asked after a short pause.

"It seems that they're trying to keep it quiet, but there are a lot of rumors about the Teyrna being missing. Some think it's us, some blame the darkspawn, and a few think it's King Alistair and Arl Eamon who are behind it."

"Say again?" Michael asked quickly. "Why do they think King Alistair would be responsible, if she's sworn fealty to him?"

"Well, I found a merchant who'd recently arrived from Denerim, and according to him, the King has little training and is dependant on Arl Eamon for a lot of advice. Apparently Eamon thinks it was a bad idea to pardon Anora. He thinks she should have been locked up in Fort Drakon or a chantry, or, better yet, executed."

"Hmm… interesting," Michael said, his mind was racing with different possibilities. "So Teyrna Anora isn't as secure in the new King's favor after all."

"The word from Denerim is that King Alistair's refused to follow Arl Eamon's advice, though.

"But Anora can't be sure of that, can she?" Michael asked him.

"Anything's possible," the man replied and shrugged. "The merchant seemed unusually knowledgeable, but he'd arrived in Gwaren after we took the Teyrna."

Michael nodded and thought for a while, drawing a slow breath. So Anora might be vulnerable, too. That was an opportunity he had to use.

"I know that look, Captain," Ser Gavren said and shook his head. "Now you've got some new crazy scheme in your head, don't you?"

"Maybe I do," Michael said and a feral smile spread on his face.

"You, two!" Michael suddenly said and pointed at the two men. "Not a single word of what you learned in Gwaren, is that understood?"

"Uh..., yes Capt'n," they both answered him, looking confused.

"Good. And you, Gavren, you keep your thoughts to yourself. I'm going to negotiate a deal with our guest now."

In the corner of his eye, Michael saw Gavren look at the two men and shrug helplessly.

"You heard the Captain," Gavren said and followed him.

* * *

Anora saw Michael and Gavren return to the camp and walk towards her. Michael had a determined look on his face. He stopped briefly and crawled into his tent for a little while, and then came back out and approached Anora. She watched him intently, maintaining an outwardly calm appearance even as her heart raced. He knew something, and whatever it was, he must have come to decision about her future.

"Teyrna Anora," Michael said in a formal voice. "It seems that your information regarding your present status is correct. We should negotiate the terms of your release now."

"It's about time," Anora said dignified, but inside she felt strangely hollow as she said it.

"With your permission, I'd like to discuss this with you in private."

Anora frowned and fidgeted nervously with her fingers. What could he want to negotiate in private, out of earshot from the others? Her heart pounded, but she managed to keep her voice steady.

"Very well, Ser Michael, lead the way."

Michael led her away from the camp into the forest. He halted and leaned on a huge oak and looked at her intently, without saying anything. Anora felt her tension rise under his scrutiny.

"What do you want then?" she asked brusquely.

"I have a goal, Teyrna Anora," Michael said calmly, "and I think you and I can help each other."

Anora's eyes narrowed.

"I can see how you may need help, Ser Michael. If nothing else, you'll need help escaping from my wrath once I've returned to Gwaren," she said angrily. "I fail to see what possible help you can offer me though."

"Don't be so sure Anora. My scouts tell me that your days as Teyrna may soon be numbered," Michael said.

"What do you mean?" she asked sharply.

"The gossip in Gwaren says that you might be arrested by the King in the near future. Apparently he may be about to change his mind about your pardon."

"Why would he do that?"

"Alistair is no doubt a nice lad, but he's never been raised to be a king, so he relies heavily on Arl Eamon to guide him. And the Arl wants you locked up in a chantry or worse."

Anora tried to stay calm, but inwardly she was full of doubt. She knew Eamon had always detested her and she herself had been surprised that Alistair had let her off so easily.

"He wouldn't dare do such a dishonorable thing after accepting my oath," she finally said defiantly.

"I don't know," Michael said slowly. "Word has it he's a surprisingly effective leader of the army fighting the Blight. Ruthless some would say. What would you have done if the roles had been reversed?"

Anora swallowed. The last sentence hit far too close to home. She had intended to have Alistair executed as soon as she'd been confirmed Queen, to ensure Eamon could never threaten her reign again.

"So… what do you want?" she asked finally.

"You need someone powerful enough to save you from the King and I need an army to retake Highever. Once Highever is in my hands, I'll be Teyrn and not even Eamon would dare move against us if we were united."

Anora gave him a calculating look. So this was his game—her freedom for an alliance. She thought carefully about it. The way he had presented it, it did make sense. She still wanted revenge for her abduction, but politics was politics. Her vengeance would just have to wait.

"That sounds good, but how can I trust you or you me, for that matter?"

"Well," Michael said and smiled lazily. "We'd have to cement an alliance not easily broken of course."

"What do you mean?" Anora replied, frowning.

"We get married of course."

Anora gaped, staring at him dumbstruck. For a moment she couldn't fathom what he'd just said. It was impossible. He might have just as well suggested they fly to the moon. Then the realization that he'd actually proposed to her hit her like a bucket of cold water.

"Don't look so shocked, Anora. That's how political deals are made, after all," Michael said amusedly.

"But… but I can't marry you," Anora said in a panicked voice. She began to pace back and forth.

"Even if you did become Teyrn of Highever, the King would never allow us to retain control of both Highever and Gwaren," Anora said finally. "If the two last teyrnir of Ferelden were united under the same family, it would become too powerful."

"Probably," Michael agreed. "You'd have to give up Gwaren and be Teyrna of Highever in that case."

"So I should give up my home, just like that?" Anora asked him angrily.

"Highever has been in Cousland hands for countless generations. It belongs to my family," Michael said with a determined look. "Your father was the first Teyrn of Gwaren of your family. It was a gift from King Maric. I will die before I see anyone but a Cousland as Teyrn of Highever. That's not negotiable."

Anora nodded involuntarily. Highever was actually richer than Gwaren and closer to Denerim, too. It would be a better fief to rule than Gwaren.

"What of me? What would I do as your Teyrna?"

Michael regarded her seriously for a moment.

"You come highly recommended as a ruler and administrator. I wouldn't want to just hand over the reins to you like King Cailan did, but I would no doubt leave most of the day to day affairs in your hands."

Anora chewed her lip nervously. His offer was beginning to sound far too reasonable for comfort. She desperately tried to find some hole in his arguments.

"And… privately?" she said and fought to keep her cheeks from coloring.

"I've never forced a woman in my life. You'd have privacy and your own separate bedroom,"

"I see," Anora said, and felt a strange resentment that he could dismiss her so easily.

"Unless you find you can't resist my charms, of course," Michael added smiling.

Anora's eyes widened for a moment. Then she looked at him haughtily.

"Hardly," she replied. She really hated that charming smile of his.

Michael just shrugged at her, something that infuriated her even more.

"So?" he said after a while.

"Do you really think this mad idea will work?" Anora asked him.

"I think it makes perfect sense to me," Michael answered her.

"And what if Eamon still tries to arrest me?" she wondered.

"Then he would have to storm Highever Castle before I let him take my wife," Michael answered her calmly.

"You'd do that?" she said wonderingly. "You'd actually risk war to keep our deal?"

"I would do that to protect my _wife_, of course," Michael answered as if it was obvious.

Anora looked down and fidgeted with her fingers, trying desperately to collect her thoughts. This was all happening too fast, but at the same time he did make a surprising amount of sense.

She watched him again carefully. Could she really just marry him then? Unbidden her thoughts turned towards the prospect of sharing her bed with him, and was uncomfortable at how much part of her seemed to like that prospect.

"Oh," Michael said. "I almost forgot."

He put down his hands in a pouch he wore at his belt and brought up a little packet.

"Let's not forget the formalities," he said smiling and gave her the packet.

Anora unwrapped the package and stared speechless at the contents. Inside the packet was a gold ring with one of the biggest diamonds she'd ever seen in her life.

"Where did you get this?" she asked breathless.

"Do you like it?"

"It's magnificent! But where did you get a diamond like that?"

"I always imagined it should be used to buy an army to retake Highever, and it does seem to serve its purpose this way, don't you think? Besides, if I'm not mistaken, it was meant for you anyway."

Anora tore her eyes from the diamond and looked at him.

"What do you mean?"

"It was being transported along with other goods by your father's knights, but we waylaid them and took all their wares. A survivor claimed your father had bought it from Nevarra to be a gift for your coronation, or something."

"You… you stole it!" Anora stared incredulously at him. "You're actually going to marry me with a stolen wedding ring! Have you no sense of propriety at all?"

"Not much, I guess," Michael admitted smiling. "And I stole you too, so it seem fitting."

"You can give it back and let me find another one if you don't like it," he added nonchalantly after a while.

"No!" Anora said quickly and hid the ring in her belt pouch. "It's mine anyway," she added primly.

She regarded him silently, her hand still feeling the ring in her pouch. She realized that if he did indeed become Teyrn of Highever, he would be a very attractive husband to anyone, and she did need an ally. She couldn't trust that Alistair wouldn't change his mind.

"Fine," she said finally. "I'll marry you then, if that's the only way out of this mess."

"Excellent," Michael answered her smiling. "Now let's inform the others of the joyous news."

He bowed and held out his hand to her. Grimly she took it and let him lead her back to the camp.

_Maker's mercy_, she groaned inwardly. _What have I done?_


	9. Duty and Desire

Chapter 9. Duty and Desire

Ser Gavren raised his eyebrows in surprise as Michael returned to the camp, hand-in-hand with the embarrassed Anora. _Maker's mercy, what's he managed to do now? _he thought, confused.

"Gather around, my friends," Michael said, smiling cheerfully. "I have the honor to announce the betrothal between myself and Teyrna Anora here. We're to be wedded shortly—we just haven't had time to set the date yet."

Ser Gavren jumped as he heard a loud clanking sound. He realized that he had dropped his sword onto a shield in surprise and was too stunned to even apologize.

"Isn't that right, dear?" Michael continued as he turned to Anora who looked like she wanted to both die of embarrassment and kill Michael for causing it.

"Yes, it... it's true," Anora said with a pained look. "Ser Michael and I have agreed to be married."

Ser Gavren stole a glance at Erlina and saw that her eyes were as round as his must be. The rest of the men seemed just as bewildered.

"Well," Michael said impatiently, "this is a cause for celebration, I'd say. Open a keg of ale!"

The last brought a ragged cheer from the men around them. Gavren managed to break out of his paralysation and help organize the impromptu celebration.

Michael brought Anora to the bonfire in the middle of the camp and motioned her to sit. She snatched her hand from his and sat down glumly, while Michael, smiling, seated himself beside her. Gavren brought him a bottle of wine, and he broke the seal, working the cork out with a short knife. She accepted a silver goblet of wine from him, but only took a few sips before putting the goblet down.

At first the celebration was a bit awkward as none seemed to grasp what had actually happened, but soon the liberal dispensing of alcohol put people in the right mood. Some of the men brought forth instruments and began to play.

Ser Gavren saw Michael offer Anora a refill of the wine. Anora looked at her almost full goblet and looked as if she was about to reject it. She glanced at Michael and shook her head. Then she downed the goblet in two quick gulps and held it out for more.

"Did you know about this?" he heard Erlina say.

Ser Gavren, startled, turned to see Anora's pretty maid servant standing beside him.

"I had no idea. I mean, I could see he was up to something, but I had no clue about his plans."

"But you think it was his doing?" Erlina questioned him.

Ser Gavren debated with himself. He didn't like the idea of lying to Erlina, but at the same time he didn't dare break Michael's order to not tell anyone exactly what his spies in Gwaren had informed him of.

"It seems obvious, doesn't it?" he said finally. "Michael looks pleased as ever and Anora seems pretty grim about the whole thing."

Erlina cocked her head and looked thoughtfully at Anora and Michael.

"I suppose you're right, but some things can be deceiving. I know my lady must find this whole scene very embarrassing for her. She's always careful about protocol and appearance. I'm not sure that she really feels so bad about the marriage though."

"Oh, why is that?" Ser Gavren asked.

"My lady and her late husband, King Cailan, didn't always have a happy relationship. Sometimes he made her very upset. I would always know when this was so, because she would smile and be polite at him at the banquets, but she would sit as far away as possible from him."

"Now she looks embarrassed and hardly tries to be polite," Erlina continued and pointed at Anora, who airily dismissed a plate of cheese offered to her. "But she really sits very close to Michael."

Ser Gavren watched as Michael waved at one of the musicians to change the tune, almost waving his arm in Anora's face. They did seem to sit very close together.

Then he looked down at Erlina and cleared his throat.

"Well, if they're getting married, I suppose that we don't have to be enemies anymore," he said and felt a little embarrassed. He really didn't want to be her enemy, far from it.

"That's right," Erlina answered and smiled at him.

Ser Gavren couldn't help but notice how close to him she was standing.

* * *

The revelry had gone on for some time before Michael called it off and began to give orders for everyone to prepare to strike camp tomorrow and leave for Gwaren.

With Michael and everyone else busy, Anora had nothing to do but sit down outside her tent and wait. Erlina was apparently resting inside the tent.

She couldn't help but remember the many times she and Cailan had played together as children. He would always pretend to be a hero slaying a dragon and saving her or even an outlaw kidnapping the princess and stealing her heart. _He would have loved this_, she thought and shook her head.

Somehow she couldn't picture Cailan in Michael's place here though. Cailan would have loved to play the dashing outlaw, but she had come to understand just how much leadership, skill and determination it had taken Michael to actually lead his soldiers like this. _Poor Cailan_, she thought to herself, _you never got any real adventures, only make believe and your only real adventure killed you. _

Anora caught herself wondering if this was how it had been when her father and Maric fought the rebellion against the Orlesians. She could definitely picture her father, as younger, in Michael's role. Although her father would never have been as cheeky as Michael was.

Involuntarily, her hand reached down to touch the pouch with the diamond ring. She realized that she was grateful that Michael had used this special ring as wedding gift. It was a memory of her father, but it was meant to be a gift when she was crowned as Queen in her own right, if Loghain had won the civil war. She could never have worn it, though, after her loss at the Landsmeet. It would have been too painful to be reminded of how close she had been to become Queen.

Now however, Michael had infused it with a new meaning. She could wear it as her wedding ring and at the same time keep it as a memory of her father. She wondered if he realized what this really meant to her, or if he just had chosen it because it was rich and expensive.

She carefully checked to see if anyone looked her way, then brought the ring out of her pouch and tried it on. It fit perfectly, of course. Her father would have made sure of that. She quickly hid the ring in her other hand when two men walked past her and then she peered at it again. She raised her eyes and sought Michael, and found him standing with his back to her, talking to one of his men.

He really did look good in the short tunic he wore, and the tailoring of his pants was nice and snug, too. Then she cursed herself. Why did her mind always wander off to such things around him? She felt a desperate need to regain her bearings and take control of events that just seemed to race away with her.

She felt a little disoriented. Perhaps it was all the wine she'd had. She rubbed her temples and called for Erlina. She needed her maid's skilful hands to comb and braid her hair to relax.

When Erlina didn't respond, she looked inside the tent to find it empty. Puzzled, Anora looked around the camp, but Erlina was nowhere in sight.

Anora rose and started looking around the camp for Erlina. Michael noticed her searching and came over to her.

"Is something wrong?" Michael asked.

"I don't think so," she replied, "but I can't find Erlina, my chambermaid. Do you know where she is?"

"No I don't," Michael replied. He joined her and together they searched the camp, but could not find Erlina anywhere.

"Maybe she went to refresh herself or wash in the pond," Michael suggested.

"I don't think so," Anora answered him. "She's always asked me for permission before leaving me before."

"We can go down to the pond and check if you want, though," Michael suggested.

Anora thought about it and then nodded.

Michael grabbed one of his swords and slung the scabbard on his back, then motioned for her to follow.

Walking close behind him down the narrow path, she felt uncomfortable again. He was helping her as if it was the most natural thing in the world, but she still couldn't make herself accept him or the fact that she was now supposed to be his betrothed. She knew he would make a good political ally, but it was only a day since she'd sworn revenge on him. He somehow left all her emotions in turmoil.

When they had almost reached the pond, she halted and looked at him indecisively. Michael walked a few more steps, and then noticing that she'd stopped, turned to look at her. There was a long awkward silence as she tried to think of something to say.

"Why are you doing this?" she finally asked him.

"Doing what?" he replied.

"Why do you insist on this marriage? You have to admit it's insane."

Michael got a stubborn look.

"I told you. I need your army to retake Highever."

"But that's not true. Once Alistair's defeated the Blight, he'll restore law in the kingdom. He and Arl Eamon know about Howe's treachery and Highever will be returned to your family."

"No," Michael said and shook his head. "I'm a Cousland, and I will not sit idly by while my enemies hold my home."

"But that's no reason to throw away your future on this. Why me? I don't even like you!"

Michael watched her carefully.

"I always knew that as a Cousland, my loyalty went to my family first. You probably think I'm just a brigand, but I know my duty. I'm the last Cousland and I have to secure a good marriage for the sake of my name."

Anora clenched her fists in frustration. Part of her was impressed with his sense of loyalty, but the other part wanted to punch his face for being so stubborn about it.

"Can't you get this through your head?" she asked in exasperation. "I don't want you, I don't want this and I'll make you miserable."

"I don't know," Michael said and winked at her. "At least it doesn't hurt to look at you."

Anora felt her cheeks color again.

"This is some game to you, isn't it?" she demanded. "You think that if you can conquer the 'Ice Queen,' everyone will admire you. Is that it?"

"Fine, I understand," she continued, with a wild look on her face. "Let's do it then. I'll let you have your way with me right here. I'll even promise to swoon and tell your friends what a marvellous lover you are. Then you can have your trophy and we can forget this insane marriage."

Michael raised an eyebrow and stared at her. She thought she'd die of embarrassment as he let his gaze wander across her body. And yet she knew a traitorous part of her was excited at this. She closed her eyes and waited for him to move.

"No," he finally said. "A tempting offer, but I'm not interested. I'm going to marry you."

She opened her eyes and stared at him nostrils flaring. Then she stamped her foot in frustration, before she desperately tried to regain her composure.

"There must be scores of nice noblewomen out there," she pleaded, "from good families, who will happily marry you and provide you with all the dowry you need. Why do you insist on wedding me?"

Michael remained silent for a long moment, and then he turned away, avoiding her eyes.

"I know there are lots of eligible daughters of rich banns out there. My mother tried to match me up with many of them. They all had sweet smiles, good child bearing hips and were perfectly content to knit all day and produce heirs. I'll jump into a lake before I marry one of those girls. I'd take you over any of them."

Anora blinked in confusion at him. For a moment she simply refused to accept the implication of what he had said. This was the last thing she had expected to hear from him.

"Are you saying that you... like me?" she whispered incredulously.

"Maker's breath," he said defiantly and met her eyes again. "You're smart and strong. I have a better chance of getting a warm bed from you, than getting an intelligent conversation from any of those girls my parents tried to match me up with."

He closed the distance between them, holding her eyes locked by his gaze.

"Anora," he said in a low voice. "Are you sure you couldn't learn to like me?"

Anora felt her heart pounding erratically in her chest. She tried to back away from him, to escape his overpowering presence, but he followed her until she felt her back bump against a tree trunk.

"Never," she croaked.

"Not even a little bit?" he murmured and leaned in towards her.

"Not one tiny iota," she whispered breathlessly, from under lowered lashes.

She could almost feel his breath on her face when she heard happy laughter nearby and the sound of feet approaching.

Michael and Anora stared at each other wide eyed for a moment, before they recoiled from each other. Face flushed, Anora straightened her dress and turned to see who it was.

To her surprise she saw Ser Gavren and Erlina come up from the pond, hand-in-hand. Both were smiling and had wet hair, likely from swimming in the water.

"My lady?" Erlina said equally surprised and quickly let go of Gavren's hand. "What brings you here?"

"I... eh... we were looking for you," Anora said trying to regain her composure.

"The Teyrna was afraid you were missing. No one knew where you were," Michael hastened to add.

"Yes, I was worried, and what do I find?" Anora said disapprovingly, "That you've been consorting with our captors in a most shameful way!"

"But... but... my lady. You're marrying him. He's not your enemy anymore, is he?" Erlina replied, distressed.

"He is until we're married," Anora answered primly.

Erlina and Gavren looked at Michael for support, but he just shrugged and shook his head.


	10. Tying Bonds

Chapter 10. Tying bonds

That night Anora lay in her bedroll trying to sort out her feelings. She was still upset with Erlina, even if she intellectually knew her maid had done nothing worse than she had been a hair's breadth from doing herself. Maybe it was Erlina's uncomplicated joy that bothered her.

She could no longer deny the fact that, whatever else she thought about Michael Cousland, part of her desired him. She had never felt like this before. She could recall moments from her youth when she'd been excited about the moments she and Cailan could steal away to grope and feel each other, despite their parents' watchful eyes.

That had been before she found out about the other women Cailan also dallied with. She'd been furious and hurt, but her father had told her that she was to become Queen and must learn to turn a blind eye. So she had done her duty and hidden her feelings. She'd never refused Cailan, but he quickly tired of her cold reception. She liked him and she didn't doubt that he loved her in his own way, but she couldn't bring herself to warm to him in bed.

She'd buried all such feelings until now. Somehow, Michael seemed to have smashed open the seals on a desire she didn't even know she had. She couldn't even begin to fathom how it had happened, but now he was an itch she had to scratch soon, or lose her mind.

She listened carefully to make sure Erlina was asleep. Then she opened the little pouch and looked at her wedding ring again, trying to decide what to think. Maybe this marriage wouldn't be so terrible after all, she thought. He didn't seem like the type to stay home a lot and he didn't seem to mind letting her run their teyrnir most of the time either.

She knew she would never be able to control him the way she had controlled Cailan, but at least she'd finally get him in bed. She felt her heart beat a little more quickly at that thought. _Maker's mercy, I've truly lost my senses_, she thought. Her last thought before drifting into sleep was that it would probably be a lot simpler if she didn't bed him. He had promised her privacy and her own life if she wished it. She just wasn't sure she'd be able to wish it.

* * *

The next morning all the tents were pulled down and the Black Griffons prepared to move, taking the entire camp with them. Anora, who had seen armies strike camp and move many times before, couldn't help but be impressed at the speed with which everything was done, and these were outlaws and brigands, not just soldiers. Michael really seemed to be a born leader of men.

After a short midday meal, they formed up in a long column and left for Gwaren. Most of the outlaws walked beside their horses which were used to carry tents and equipment. Michael also walked beside Anora who rode his black courser.

"So..." Anora said regarding Michael carefully. "When do we set a date for the wedding then?"

"Oh, that," Michael answered cheerfully. "We'll have the ceremony tonight. There's a village chantry about halfway to Gwaren, that'll be perfect."

"Today?" Anora burst out. "But... are you serious? Don't you realize how much time this would take to organize? We have to send invitations, organize a banquet, and house all the guests. I don't even have a wedding dress!"

"Oh, I thought we'd dispense with that. I don't have time for all those formalities. I'm not wasting more time than necessary before I move on Highever and King Alistair may change his mind about you any day. Better we get married today, and have it done with. "

"Maybe you can throw a big celebration in Gwaren afterwards," he continued, "to soothe any ruffled political feathers. Besides, no one can accuse you of playing favourites, because no one was invited."

"Yes, well..." Anora said after a moment's pause, "we could, but that's not how it's done. Surely you must understand how improper that would be."

"Actually it makes more sense this way, "Michael insisted with a smile. "We still need to account for your absence and none of us want to create any confusion about our alliance by mentioning that you got abducted. The best way is simply to pretend we fell in love, eloped and married in the village chantry."

Anora glared at him.

"Do you always lie like that?" she asked him frostily.

"Only when politics are involved," Michael answered her calmly.

"Isn't that what this is?" she asked him. "Isn't our marriage politics, something you can lie through your teeth about?"

"I told you I'd rather marry you for your wit," Michael said softly, "than a vapid nobleman's daughter for her pretty smile. That's not politics."

Anora felt strangely hot at his words. Why did he always get under her skin like that? She still couldn't make her mind up whether he was lying to her or not.

"What if I don't like you and refuse you in my bed forever? What will you do then?"

"Then I'll find a nice willing woman to warm my bed at night and still be entertained by your wit during the day."

Anora's eyes narrowed and she tossed her head, irritated.

"So, if I don't please you, then you'll just find another woman?" she asked tersely.

"Of course not. I intend to honour my vows to you as long as it's reasonable. As long as we share a bed, I promise I won't look elsewhere. But you can't expect me to live in chastity all my life just because you don't put out."

"So that's it?" Anora said angrily. "I _put out_ or you take someone else?"

Michael looked at her for a while, and then he shrugged.

"Fine, to prove to you that I'm serious, I promise you this: For one year after we're married I won't look at another woman, even if you refuse me every day of the year. If after that you still don't want me near your bed, I'm free to look elsewhere. But we still have a real wedding night."

Anora nodded involuntarily. His words seemed genuine and she really didn't want to refuse him, she just needed to know if he was serious or wanted to keep others on the side, like Cailan had. If he spoke the truth, then she could have their wedding night to get him out of her system and hopefully not have to repeat it too often.

"Fair enough," she said simply.

* * *

The sun had begun to set, when they reached the little hamlet of White Farthing. It was nothing more than a few dozen little houses and sheds surrounding a small chantry. The local villagers stared and then tried to hide away in fear as the column of armed men entered the hamlet.

"Don't be alarmed, good folk," Michael called. "I bring joyous news. I'm here with your Teyrna to celebrate our wedding. You're all invited of course."

The villagers looked nervously at the newcomers, refusing to come nearer.

"Suit yourselves," Michael shouted merrily, "but I can assure you, you won't get another chance like this. Your Teyrna will be much pickier for the banquet she's planning."

Michael turned to Anora and held out his hand to her. She looked at him for a moment and then she stubbornly refused his hand, climbing off the horse without his help. Unfazed, Michael stepped in closer and caught her waist as she came down. He gently let her down, letting his hands rest just a fraction too long on her waist.

Anora clenched her teeth and stepped away from him, but he caught her hand. She shot him an angry glance, but then relented and let him walk hand-in-hand with her towards the little chantry.

Ser Gavren opened the door and let them into the building, shaking his head as Michael, smiling, led the grim-faced Anora past the doorway.

The little chantry seemed empty at first. For a moment Anora hoped that it would actually be empty and they would have to postpone things. Then she heard movement from somewhere and a gray haired woman in chantry robes appeared from a back room.

"Yes, what can I do for you, my lord and lady?" the woman questioned.

"Revered Mother," Michael said and grinned, "we wish to hold a wedding ceremony in your delightfully rustic chantry here."

The Revered Mother looked at them frowning, then she put on a kindly face.

"We don't get nobility marrying here often, but you're welcome to return tomorrow when Sister Dahria is here. She handles all appointments."

"Thank you, Revered mother," Michael answered politely, "but as we're in a bit of a hurry, we thought it might be possible to... speed up things a little. Maybe right now, if that's possible?"

"No, no," the Revered mother said sharply, "There are procedures to follow. The chantry must be assured that this is not done lightly, and that both parties understand the serious commitment that this union represents."

"I see," Michael said, nodding, "and I'm sure you're doing an excellent job here, making sure people don't rush into this without thinking. I believe, however, that this little bag of gold will prove just how serious and dedicated we are. So if you would please get started..."

"Absolutely not," the Revered mother said indignantly, although her eyes stayed on the gold for a long time. "You cannot think that gold would..."

"Look carefully, you hag," Anora broke in exasperated, "I am Teyrna Anora Mac Tir. You know me and you knew my father's reputation very well. Either you get this stupid ritual going or I'm going to tear this place down!"

The Revered Mother stared, gaping like a fish on land, at Anora. Then she nodded and snatched the bag of gold.

"Very well, the ceremony will begin in a moment," she said in a shrill voice. "You can change if you want in the side room."

Anora called Erlina to follow her into the side room. Erlina hurried after her, carrying a lavender coloured dress Anora had chosen from the outlaw's chest of spoils.

Michael smiled at her amusedly as she turned to close the door behind her.

When they were alone in the side room, Anora took a deep breath and looked at the lavender dress in front of her. _Stolen like everything else in this insane wedding_, she thought to herself and shook her head.

"I can't do this…" she mumbled to herself.

"My lady?" Erlina asked her.

"This is preposterous, Erlina. I can't go through with this ceremony."

Erlina looked at her for a while, then she just shook her head and began to straighten the dress for her.

"What?" Anora asked her. "Why do you shake your head like that?"

Erlina hesitated for a while and then she looked at her defiantly.

"My lady, I am but your maid servant and have no right to question you, but why is it so hard to just admit that you want him and be done with it?"

"I should admit… what?" Anora stared at her in disbelief.

"With all due respect, my lady, get over yourself. Politically, he's a good catch and an excellent ally. This isn't about the ceremony. The only thing that's holding you back is that you can't handle the fact that you want him between your sheets, too."

"Erlina... I... I've never given you permission to speak like that," Anora stuttered.

"No, but you should have," Erlina said and snorted.

"So... you really think I should marry him now?" Anora said nervously.

"I don't know and I don't care. You can join a convent if you prefer. Just please spend at least one night with him soon because you'll drive us all crazy if you don't."

"Oh!"

Anora swallowed. Erlina had never talked to her like that before. Hardly anyone had.

Anora fidgeted with her fingers and then she took the diamond wedding ring form the pouch and looked at it. Maybe Erlina's confidence came with the rosy glow that this Ser Gavren seemed to bring to her cheeks.

"I suppose I'd better put on the wedding dress then," she said slowly.

* * *

It felt like something unreal and dreamlike to Anora when she finally walked down the aisle with Michael. She couldn't help but comparing it to her first wedding ceremony, all those years ago. Then she'd been walking down the aisle of the chantry in Denerim, packed with nobles and dignitaries. She had been proud and triumphant, knowing she would now rule Ferelden. This time she was in a little village chantry, with only Erlina and Ser Gavren as witnesses. She was embarrassed and nervous and had the worst butterflies in her stomach she had ever felt.

Finally the Revered Mother had them face each other and recite the ancient oaths. Anora was actually happy that there were no wedding guests at this point because her own voice sounded shrill and unnatural to her. Of course, Michael somehow managed to sound calm and reassuring.

Then the Revered Mother suddenly pronounced that the ceremony was over. She swallowed and prepared for him to kiss her. It was only the lightest brush of his lips on hers, but she still felt oddly light-headed from it.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath then she turned away from the Revered Mother.

"Right," she said, "now that's done with, can we continue to Gwaren? I don't want to spend our wedding night in camp."

"Too late, dear," Michael replied and Anora cringed a little when he said "dear."

"It's getting late and I think we need a toast or two after this," Michael continued. "I negotiated with the Revered Mother here, while you were away and she graciously allowed us to stay here in her private quarters for the night. She'll be visiting her sister, I think."

Anora closed her eyes and tried to breathe slowly before she said with a pained look, "Are you saying we will spend our wedding night in a chantry?"

Michael shrugged and then he smiled at her.

"Why not? This way, at least the bed might be a virgin."

Anora raised her hands and shook her head in helpless disbelief.

"This... this is just too much," she whispered to herself.


	11. Sense and Sensibility

_This chapter is dedicated to my muse, you know who you are..._

* * *

Chapter 11. Sense and Sensibility

Anora sat nervously, fidgeting with her fingers in front of the dressing table as Erlina unbraided her long blonde hair. She kept touching and looking at the diamond wedding ring she wore on her finger.

At least the dressing room felt very feminine. Little things, like a vase of flowers or little decorations, clearly spelled that this room belonged to a woman. A woman who was also a Revered Mother of the Chantry, she reminded herself and cringed inwardly at what a ludicrous place this was to celebrate a wedding night.

She took her eyes off the ring and looked at her image in the mirror in front of her, watching as Erlina carefully braided two long locks of hair that framed her face and then tied them behind her neck to keep the rest of her hair from falling into her face.

Anora nodded approvingly at the result and then adjusted the straps of the nightgown Erlina had somehow managed to find. She didn't even want to think about where she had found it, or who it might have originally belonged to. It was a sleeveless white gown, simple but with an elegant cut, and rather low in the back. She had to admit that it looked good on her. She hoped Michael would agree. Then she frowned. Why would it matter anyway? It was their wedding night and she'd hardly need to entice him.

She realized that she wanted to reason with her new husband first. Talk to him and maybe try to come to some sort of agreement about how they would deal with the intimate part of their marriage before simply climbing in between the sheets and starting with it.

She cursed herself for a fool and tried to calm herself. How complicated could it be, really? It's not like she hadn't bedded a man before. Obviously it would feel different to actually desire him, as opposed to going through the motions, like with her previous husband. That much she realized from the tingling feelings she would get when she was near Michael sometimes. The act itself was simple enough though. With Cailan it was mostly finding a comfortable position and waiting for him to be done. How different could this be?

"That will be all, Erlina," Anora said finally.

Erlina nodded and flashed a brief smile before leaving the dressing room.

Anora remained seated, staring at the mirror and trying to compose herself. She had no business getting butterflies over this. She just needed to find a release from this spell she had fallen under, and then she could concentrate on more important matters.

She took a deep breath and rose from the chair and walked towards the door that led to the bed chamber, where she knew her new husband awaited her.

* * *

Anora opened the door and saw Michael standing in the dim light, naked to the waist, facing away from her. He had just put down the last of his swords and then bent down to remove one of his boots. For a moment she stood silently and watched him. He really did look good, she had to admit. It was exciting to think that she would be able to put her arms around those shoulders soon. Then she closed the door behind her with an audible creaking sound.

Michael turned around smiling, and then the smile faded into an almost surprised look.

"Maker's breath! You're beautiful, Anora," he said.

She felt strangely hot and tried desperately to resist making a silly grin. She was being foolish, she knew. It was just meaningless flattery, but still it made her heart skip to hear it.

Anora forced herself to stop fidgeting with her wedding ring and walked over to the bed. It really was quite wide and luxurious of a bed, for a Revered Mother of a village chantry at least. It would be intimate to sleep two in it, but not uncomfortable. Anora wondered if the woman who lived here might be some nobleman's daughter, sent away to the chantry to simplify the inheritance. Obviously she must enjoy a bit of finery, despite her vows.

Anora sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at Michael. He was only wearing his small clothes now and she couldn't resist taking a little extra look at him. Then he smiled and winked at her, when he noticed her interest and she looked away quickly.

"Look, husband," she began. The word_ husband_ sounded strange in her mouth. "Maybe we should talk before we... get down to things."

Michael arched an eyebrow, but then he nodded and sat down beside her. His arm brushed her and she felt a little shiver at his touch.

"Don't worry, Anora," he said and looked at her with a friendly smile. "It's all right to be a little nervous. We can just take it one step at a time—there's no hurry."

"Yes, well, that may be best when we get there," she replied uncomfortably, "but I was still wondering: What do you really expect of this? How often do we share a bed and so on?"

"As often as we care to, I suppose, or not at all if you really prefer," Michael said and shrugged.

"Yes, but how often would that be, if I could…tolerate you? Once a week or more?"

Michael frowned and looked at her, and then he shook his head.

"Do you always plan everything in your life like this?" he asked her.

"Well, yes," Anora answered defensively. "It's sensible to plan things, isn't it?"

"Just forget the planning a little," he whispered and leaned in towards her.

Anora swallowed and felt a little jolt as he brushed away her hair and let his lips touch her neck.

"I… I'm not saying we won't get to that, too," she said, trying desperately to keep her head clear as the tingling sensations in her grew worse than ever. He wasn't just kissing her—he was actually using his tongue to gently lick her neck.

"I just thought it was better if we had an agreement about it so we both would know what to expect," she continued with half-closed eyes.

It was getting difficult for her to breathe normally and she thought her voice sounded unnatural. Then she felt his calloused hand touch her shoulder and gently pull down the strap on her nightgown, and she tensed as her breast was exposed.

"Please," she said huskily, trying to see past the sensations that filled her. "I just think we can be reasonable about—" Her words ended in a sharp intake of breath as his hand gently cupped her breast.

"You want a schedule maybe?" Michael wondered humorously, his hand gently massaging her breasts, her sensitive nipples stiffening in response to his tender ministrations. "Like, on Tuesdays you get to be on top?" he murmured softly in her ear.

"Maybe… what? No," she said, eyes suddenly open in consternation.

She tried to pull away from him, but somehow she only ended up lying down on the bed. For a moment she thought he would climb on top of her, but instead he settled down beside her, leaning on one elbow.

"I don't see why you have to be like this," she said a bit petulantly. "Why can't you discuss things first, before you…?"

Her words broke off as he lowered his head and softly kissed her naked breast. Her mouth closed and then opened in a little "o", as he gently sucked her nipple and withdrew his lips, brushing her skin with his teeth as he did so. She was momentarily lost to the jolts of pleasure coursing through her body.

She opened her eyes and looked down to see him smile up at her.

"Do you always talk so much in bed, dear?" he inquired softly.

"No… I mean, it's you who won't…"

She never finished the sentence as he let his mouth close upon her nipple once again. The pleasurable sensation he was causing made her squirm with delight. His mouth continued to slowly suck and lick her nipples. She had to clench her teeth to avoid moaning aloud, because as delicious as his actions felt they were also becoming pure torture.

When he finally released her breast and met her eyes again, he was still smiling, but behind the smile she saw something else. He was almost breathing as heavily as she was. Maker's mercy, she thought to herself, he's getting as excited about this as I am. Somehow that thought made her desire rise even higher.

Then she swallowed as she felt his hand move gently down her side with feathery touches until it reached the hem of her nightgown. His fingers lightly pulled the hem up revealing her slender thighs. She grabbed hold of the sheet squeezing the fabric in frustration as his fingertips gently brushed her sensitive skin.

She desperately tried to compose herself and regain some measure of self control, quivering as his fingers moved up between her half-parted thighs. Instinctively she closed her thighs at the unfamiliar touch, but Michael continued to caress her until she let him gently ply her thighs apart again, and he could slip his fingers between the now painfully sensitive folds of pink flesh.

He teased maddeningly around the edges, before he finally let two fingers slip delicately into her trembling body. As his fingers entered her slippery sheath, her hips jerked as she sought even more friction to meet the demands of the desire that seemed to rob her of all reason and sanity.

She almost cried out in frustration as he suddenly, without warning, pulled away from her. She watched as he removed his last garment and returned, poised between her thighs, fully naked. Undulating her body, almost shivering with lust, she managed to hastily remove her own nightgown.

She desperately wanted to feel his length inside her now, but instead he returned to gently licking and sucking the soft globes of her tender breasts.

"Please, Michael, can't you just get this done now?" she croaked.

"You're forgetting this could be the last time I have a woman in a year, by the terms of our agreement. I'm determined to make this last."

She groaned in distress as he softly licked and kissed the valley between her breasts. To her surprise he didn't stop at that, but continued down, licking and kissing her abdomen as well, making her squirm, panting with desire.

A sudden suspicion seized her as he continued downwards. In shock she felt him kiss her even lower, towards her womanly core, with its patch of blonde hair.

"Michael, stop it," she whispered, eyes glazed. "You can't. That's… that's nasty…"

Anora gasped and her hips bucked violently as his tongue reached the centre of her desire and he licked and sucked on the sensitive nub, she'd barely been aware of. Then the pleasure stopped as quickly as it had begun, leaving her maddeningly unfulfilled. She stared down in disbelief as he lifted his head to look up at her.

"Do you really want me to stop?" he murmured.

She clenched her fists and almost cried out in frustration.

"No, damn you…" she surrendered finally.

"Please, please don't stop," she begged him as he waited just a little longer.

He then arduously returned his attention to pleasing her once again, his tongue continuing its tender torture, driving her wild with desire.

When she finally thought she could take it no longer, he withdrew his head from between her thighs and sat up. She closed her eyes and expectantly waited for him to finally join their bodies completely.

Then she gasped and opened her eyes in surprise as he first lifted one of her legs in the air to rest on his shoulder and then the other. For a second she almost panicked, the unfamiliar position making her tense. Then she forgot all else as he finally buried his length as deeply as he could inside her.

She was held down by his weight, feeling totally exposed to him. He drove her with a sweet, sensual rhythm that robbed her of all control. Not even her own body would obey her. Beneath the desire and the need, she felt a sliver of fear. The all-consuming pleasure that was engulfing her was frightening in its newness and intensity.

She moaned with pleasure, wildly tossing her hair, as he filled her again and again. Somewhere she heard a cry that may have been her own. Her whole body shook as the tide finally swept her away. Her last coherent thought was that she'd been so wrong. This was nothing like anything she'd ever experienced before.


	12. Homecoming Queen

Chapter 12. Homecoming Queen

The next morning Anora was already out of bed when Michael opened his eyes. He looked at her through half open lids first, without calling attention to the fact that he was awake. She was standing in her nightgown, with her back towards him, brushing her hair.

His eyes traced her slim curves. Then he closed his eyes and recalled last night. She had been so uptight at first, but when he had, well... seduced her, for lack of a better word, she'd been so very pliant.

She was quite a woman, he thought. He'd known many women before, but none had had her strength or intelligence. He suddenly wondered if she was up for more fun in the morning.

"Good morning, dear," he said lazily.

"Good morning, husband," Anora replied in a calm, professional tone.

Michael quickly shelved the idea of continued enjoyment in bed. She was obviously back to her old self again, he thought sighing inwardly. Getting out of bed, he looked for his clothes and began putting them on. He saw Anora glance at him and then leave the bed room.

"I'll be in the dressing room, husband," she said. "I expect to see you outside shortly."

"I'll be there," Michael answered curtly. He didn't like the way she suddenly seemed to try and order him about. If that was her idea of what their marriage would be like, she was in for a surprise.

He put on his breeches and boots. Then he grabbed the swords, tunic and belt, and headed out to wash his face.

He got out of the chantry just behind Anora and Erlina. He saw that Gavren was already up and about, so he went over to him and gave him the final orders for striking camp.

There were a lot more peasants looking curiously around the Black Griffons camp today than yesterday. Apparently, the outlaw's discipline and the lack of incidents had convinced them that they weren't very dangerous. Rumor had also spread that this was indeed none other than Teyrna Anora and her new husband.

Michael left Gavren to wash up, dipping his head in the water and then splashing his chest with the cold water to wake up properly. When he had dried himself off and put his tunic on, he returned to find Anora discussing with Gavren.

"You need to give me a horse to ride on and I really want you to buy a decent side saddle here. I refuse to look ridiculous when I return to Gwaren. "

Gavren looked at Michael for answers.

"A horse is no problem, Anora," Michael said. "What do you need a side saddle for, though? I've seen you ride a horse well."

"Of course I do," Anora replied, "but if this marriage is to be anything but a sad joke, I suggest you let me explain to your lieutenant how to acquire something to help me return in proper style. I do not intend to return to Gwaren with my skirts hiked up like some Chasind wilder woman."

Michael crossed his arms and looked carefully at her.

"First of all," he said frostily, "Gavren is my man and if you want him to do anything, you can come to me, and secondly, I didn't hear you complain about sad jokes last night."

Anora's eyes narrowed in fury. For a moment Michael thought she would slap him, but she managed to control herself.

"We're married now, husband," she replied just as frostily, "and if you intend to play adventure with my army, then I suggest you have the courtesy to let one of your little brigands find me something to ride upon, or else no one will believe your ridiculous lie about us eloping.

"And let me remind you _husband_, I don't intend to discuss your performance in bed, however embarrassing it may be, in front of others and I do suggest you do me the same courtesy."

Michael glared at his new wife and felt his blood pounding in his temples. Then he took a deep breath and composed himself.

"Dear wife," he said grimly. "I apologize if I dragged our private life into the discussion. Rest assured that I will make no reference to it again."

Anora watched him carefully, looking for any sign of mockery, but finally she nodded slightly.

"Gavren," Michael continued, "go find a good side saddle for my wife, will you? Take whatever funds necessary acquire that and whatever else she needs to ensure she returns in a manner befitting a teyrna."

Gavren bowed, with a relieved expression, and left them quickly. When Gavren had left them alone, Michael leaned closer to Anora and whispered.

"Complain all you want about your _sad marriage_, you know that last night was totally amazing."

Anora's eyes widened in surprise as Michael winked at her and smiled.

"You... you... conceited..." she stammered, her face scarlet.

Michael bowed and then he left her to make sure everyone was ready to leave. Behind him he heard her stamp her foot and leave.

* * *

Shortly after leaving White Farthing, they were hailed by a troop of mounted soldiers. The lieutenant in charge of the troop at first refused to believe Michael's explanation as he was here as the new Teyrn of Gwaren, until an exasperated Anora ordered him to stop questioning them and report back to the city that she was returning with her new husband.

The lieutenant looked pole axed at her announcement, but he collected himself and turned his troop around and rode away at the gallop.

This meant that when they finally entered Gwaren, late in the day, the streets were lined with curious citizens who flocked to see if the Teyrna really had returned and if it was true that she had married, too.

Anora rode, head held high, beside Michael through the streets of Gwaren. Michael had to admire her style. She really looked like a queen, whatever had befallen her. He wondered what this Alistair had that made people chose him instead.

When they reached the Teyrn's castle, Michael got off his black courser and offered his hand to Anora. She gracefully accepted it and let him help her off her own horse. Then she lightly took his hand and walked up to a group of hastily assembled dignitaries.

"Welcome home, Teyrna Anora," a tall hawk nosed man said and bowed to her. "We've been worried about you."

"Why thank you, Seneschal," Anora replied. "I do apologize for the haste of my leave taking. It wasn't my attention to cause undue alarm."

"May we inquire as to the reason for your sudden disappearance?" a large bearded man beside the seneschal asked.

"It's not much to talk about," Anora said airily. "I've married and want to introduce you to my new husband."

There was a murmur among the gathered noblemen. Only the Seneschal seemed unaffected by the news.

"So the rumor is true," the second man continued. "What a... fortuitous event, if somewhat irregular."

"Any irregularity is entirely my fault," Michael said, clearing his throat. "I can explain everything."

Anora squeezed his hand so hard it almost hurt, but he ignored it and continued.

"Teyrna Anora and I have been negotiating a marriage for some time. We wanted to keep it secret as the as the political situation in Ferelden is volatile right now."

"I'm afraid, however, that the Teyrna here made such an impression on me," Michael continued, "that I was overcome by my feelings and decided to elope with her. This of course put the Teyrna in difficult position: either decide to elope with me in the face of propriety or deny me and risk hurting my feelings. I'm very happy she chose the former."

The assembled nobles nodded and mumbled amongst each other. Anora leaned towards him.

"You lie through your teeth, but I have to admit you do it well," she whispered to him.

"Only politics, my dear," Michael whispered back.

The small gathering turned into a minor celebration, even if Michael felt that everything seemed dreadfully contrived and stiff. Anora seemed right at home though, chatting with officials, gossiping with nobles and introducing him to a bewildering number of people.

He did his best to keep up the facade he had donned despite his growing boredom. He told a wild tale of how he had eloped with Anora to marry in a village chantry several times, with such embellishment that some ladies openly professed their admiration at his romantic gesture.

As the evening progressed, Michael felt more and more trapped by the crowding nobles. He'd never really enjoyed this type of social gathering back in Highever either. His mother would always insist on him being present at those occasions, at least if there was some girl she could try to match him up with. It was never as formal in Highever as here though, and Bryce usually turned a blind eye if he disappeared after a while.

Michael excused himself and decided to take a short walk on the battlements to clear his head. Walking alone outside on the wall, he wondered about his future. He was a Cousland and he was loyal to his name and his heritage. Apparently that loyalty meant he had to put up with things like this, he sighed to himself. "I miss you Fergus," he whispered to himself. "You would've been a much better Teyrn than me."

He decided he could no longer reasonably stay away and walked back to the gathering. As he was about to go into the castle again, he saw Anora looking out the doorway.

"There you are," she said coldly, "I thought you had decided to run back to the forest, or something."

"I'm sorry, dear," he said and tried to smile. "You won't get rid of me quite that easily."

Anora snorted and turned to go back inside, when Michael called after her.

"Anora," he said and suddenly felt weary. "It's been a long day. Is there any chance we can end this party soon?"

She looked at him with an unreadable expression and then she gave him a short nod and left.

When Michael entered the main hall again, he saw that Anora approach the seneschal and speak to him in a low voice. The seneschal nodded and called for everyone's attention.

"My lords and ladies," the seneschal said loudly, "the Teyrna and Teyrn have had a long journey and need to rest and settle in. I suggest that we leave them be for now. I'm sure they'll be eager to discuss anything you might wish to discuss with them in court tomorrow."

The assembled noblemen clustered around Michael and Anora to bid them farewell and offer renewed congratulations. Michael did his best to be gracious, even if he could only remember the names of one or two of them.

When the last guest had disappeared, he turned towards Anora and smiled gratefully at her. She nodded, but began to fidget with her fingers, something he had noticed she always did when she was nervous.

"Apparently I'm a very lucky woman to have such a romantic husband," she said finally and sighed.

"Oh, says who?" Michael inquired humorously.

"Well, at least half the ladies here swear to it," she replied with a forced smile. "You can spin quite a tale if you want to."

"Oh, dear, if they only knew the truth," Michael said and shook his head.

Anora looked at him for a while, as if trying to find something to say.

"So..." she said finally, looking away from him. " I suppose we need to find a place for you to stay now."


	13. New Accommodations

Chapter 13. New Accommodations

Michael followed Anora up the stairs to the teyrn's floor in the main tower of the castle. When he had climbed the last stair he emerged into a small hall. Shelves and chests lined the walls, with books, scrolls and various decorations. A huge black banner, with the golden wyvern of Gwaren, hung on the wall in front of him.

Michael looked around, and peered into the adjoining rooms. He opened the door into what he guessed must be Anora's bedchamber and took a look inside. He realized that his assumption had been correct. This was the bedchamber with the large bed where Anora had been sleeping the first time he had laid eyes on her.

He suddenly felt awkward, as if he was intruding on some private sphere of her life where he didn't have a right to be uninvited. That feeling was only heightened by the knowledge that last time he had been there, he had stalked her and abducted her against her will.

He quickly closed the door again and moved away, trying to hide his embarrassment. Then he looked at the door to the right and realized that it must be Erlina's room, where he had entered the castle. He opened that door, too, and looked inside. His attention was immediately drawn to the window that was still half open. He shook his head and made a mental note to bring that up with the guard captain of the castle.

Then he studied the room more closely. It was smaller than Anora's and it was connected to another room full of wardrobes that he guessed was Anora's dressing room. He noticed the door that led to Anora's bedchamber and realized that this would be a nice room for him if Anora was really willing to try and make their marriage work.

"What do you think about this room, Anora?" he asked her. "If your maid servant could move, this could be a nice room for me."

Anora looked down and seemed uncomfortable at his words.

"I don't think so," she said obviously not relishing the idea. "I need Erlina close by so she can attend me. I must have these rooms for Erlina and my wardrobe."

Michael nodded and tried to hide his disappointment. The door between the rooms would have been convenient if she had been interested in sharing a bed now and then, but apparently this wasn't important enough for her.

He looked at a door on the other side of her bedchamber. The door was already half ajar and he saw that it was a study, with a desk, two chairs and some shelves with various scrolls and ledgers. It would be a bit small for a teyrn's bedroom, but he wasn't picky.

"I guess we could put a bed in here and I could sleep there," he said speculatively and looked at Anora.

"No, no," Anora said quickly. "That's my study. I often work late and I really need to keep the study here so I can go directly to bed afterwards."

Michael tried to hide his annoyance. Obviously she wasn't very willing to make any real changes in her rituals to accommodate him.

He quickly looked at the other rooms further away from Anora's bedchamber: a library, a storage room with wardrobes and chests and a small briefing room. For each one Anora kept finding reasons why she couldn't be without them.

Michael felt his irritation rising. She was just stalling him and didn't seem to want him anywhere near her.

"Look, Anora," he finally said exasperated. "This is ridiculous. If you don't want me near you, then just say so. Then we can end this farce and I can find a room somewhere else in the castle."

Anora just looked down and refused to meet his eyes, obviously distressed.

"It's not like that," she said. "I… I really want to find a sensible solution for us both."

"Fair enough," he said challengingly. "Can you propose a sensible suggestion then?"

"Well, I guess since you're my husband now, we should sleep on the same floor, for appearance's sake at least," she said carefully.

"You could just… sleep in my bed, of course. At least as a temporary solution until we can find something better. We're married now, so I suppose it's not inappropriate"

That was a surprise, he thought. Suddenly she was willing to let him stay in her bedchamber every night, even if she made it sound as if it was some necessary inconvenience?

"You wouldn't mind then?" he asked her carefully.

She just shrugged and shook her head.

"We can put in a screen for you to undress behind if you want, and maybe an extra wardrobe or two for you," she said hastily. "It would still give you privacy and I usually dress in my dressing room anyway."

"Just as a… temporary solution?" he said carefully.

"Of course," she said, suddenly all business. "I'll order the servants to bring in a wardrobe, and something for you to dress behind, right away."

"I don't have many clothes anyway," Michael said and pointed as his clothing, "mostly these rather worn things that have honestly have seen better days."

"We'll find you new clothes tomorrow," Anora replied quickly. "From now on I expect you to dress like a teyrn and as my husband."

Michael wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. He was definitely not going to start dressing like some peacock for her amusement. Still, he thought, she did seem to be a practical person and he didn't mind good looking clothes as long as they were practical and easy to move in.

When the servants had found an empty wardrobe together with a clothes chest and few other things, and carried everything into the bed chamber, it was getting late and past time to go to bed.  
Michael yawned involuntarily and slowly stretched his weary limbs. He was definitely tired.

"You go to bed, Michael," Anora said. "I'll be up for a while in my study. I have work to catch up with."

"I'm not that tired," Michael tried to convince her. "If there's anything I can do to help, I'll gladly do it."

"No," she replied dismissively. "I'll start explaining about how the teyrnir is run tomorrow, but tonight you'd just be in the way. You go to bed. Don't wait up for me."

He nodded his acceptance, trying to hide his disappointment. He still couldn't understand the signals he got from her. One moment she seemed to want him closer, the next moment she pushed him away.

Anora rose and left the bedchamber and after some deliberation, Michael decided that there was no point in waiting up. So he undressed and climbed into bed.

The bed was soft and warm compared to the bedrolls he had gotten used to for the last year or so, more comfortable than even the Revered Mother's bed in the chantry of White Farthing. And though it had only been for one night, he realized he actually missed Anora's body curled up next to him.

One step at a time, he thought to himself, and let himself drift off to sleep.

* * *

He had no sense of how much time had passed when he noticed Anora climbing into the bed on the other side. Hovering between sleep and wakefulness, he felt her moving next to him.

He felt her creep closer to him and put an arm on his chest. He smiled drowsily as her hand moved across his chest, her finger tips probing the edges of wound he had gotten in the battle with the ogre.

Still half asleep, he wondered if he should acknowledge the intimacy when he felt her fingers slowly move down across his abdomen. Sleep left him almost instantly as he felt himself stirring from her delicate touch. He still didn't open his eyes or move though, curious to see what she would do next.

Her fingers stopped and she felt her hand rest on his stomach, then he felt her finger tips do soft little circles on his skin for a while, before slowly continue downwards.

Suddenly her hand brushed against the tip his now almost fully erect member. She stopped instantly, not moving a muscle.

Michael's mind raced. She was obviously exploring his body and it seemed that she was intent on doing it in a most intimate manner. At the same time she appeared to be trying to do it without waking him up. He didn't know what she'd do if he let her know he was awake and aware of her actions, so he tried to pretend to still be asleep.

Then he felt her lift her hand and then close it around his shaft. He tried desperately to control his breath to not give himself away as she released her grip and gently explored him up and down, from tip to base. It was becoming increasingly hard for him to lie unmoving under her fingers' deliciously tender exploration.

Then her hand closed around his shaft again and began to slowly move up and down. He could no longer contain himself. He had to try and steal a look at her. He opened his eyes to watch her, just as she turned her face to look at his.

Their gaze met and her eyes opened wide as she realized he was aware of what she was doing. She quickly withdrew her hand and tried to pull away from him, but he caught her hand before she could.

Michael looked at her in wonder. She'd obviously been interested in him, but now that he had found out, she seemed nervous. Then understanding dawned on him. She was a very controlled person. Maybe she wanted to explore their intimacy more, but was nervous about his response. He'd led her on their wedding night, almost dominating her during the act. Maybe she needed a little more control herself this time.

Flipping the covers, which were already partly down, all the way off, he took her hand a placed it on his abdomen again, and then lay back down, waiting passively for her to move.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her watching his face irresolutely before she looked down his body and finally continued her exploration, letting her hand move down, running her fingers through the curled hair surrounding his manhood. The sensations drove his desire ever higher, until her hand finally closed on him again.

No longer needing to hide his awareness, Michael closed his eyes and groaned slightly as she began the up and down movement again. He really wanted to grab her and start feeling her, too, but resisted the impulse. The situation was so intriguing and he discovered that it was very arousing to just lie passively and let her set the pace on her own.

She momentarily left her grip on him to adjust her position, and then he felt her hand close on him again. For a moment she just held him still, unmoving, and then he suddenly felt a jolt of pleasure as something wet and warm closed around the tip of his erection.

He opened his eyes and stared. Her golden hair fell across his stomach and thighs and her head slowly bobbed as her lips closed around him. His back tensed and he groaned loudly as he felt her tease along his entire length, licking and kissing him.

Through half closed eyes he saw her lifting her head and turn to look at his face again, as if seeking reassurance that this was good. He didn't know what to say or do, but apparently his appearance was convincing enough, because she broke into a smile and turned back. He desperately tried to resist bucking his hips, wanting to further the intense pleasure as she took him again in her mouth.

It was pure torture to remain passive throughout her delicious ministrations. He desperately wanted to thrust into her, but he forced himself to continue to allow her to control the situation, clenching his fists in the sheets in frustration.

Then she lifted her head again and sat upright. Looking intently at him, she pulled her nightgown off. He wanted to reach out and grab the delightful mounds of her breasts, but she sat at his legs out of reach from him.

Then she swung herself over him and straddled his thighs. She bent down and placed one soft, wet kiss on his achingly hard member before continuing upwards, kissing and licking her way up his body, her breasts rubbing against him as she went.

He looked down to see her lift her face and meet his eyes, determination showing on her features. Then she rose up and pressed her hips against his. He watched her as she closed her eyes and slid her slippery pink folds along his length with slow sensuous motions. She was so agonizingly close to him.

Then she opened her eyes and looked down her body as she lifted her hips and reached for him with one hand and guided his shaft into her. He clenched his teeth when she enfolded him with her wet warmth, lowering herself down on him.

She sat up with him buried deep into her body almost unmoving. Slowly, eyes closed, she traced the outline of her lips with her tongue, while she gently rocked her body on his. He was almost happy she didn't move so much, because the intense pleasure as she took him in almost made him lose his control.

Then she leaned forward again and begun to lift her hips and push down on him again, half sliding up and down him, half grinding and rubbing herself along him. The slow sensuous rhythm soon had him fighting to keep control over his release.

He looked almost in awe at her naked body moving up and down, her breasts swaying with the motion and her tousled golden hair framing her sweating, concentrating face. Then she began to increase the pace. He could no longer resist the need to meet her motions with his own upward thrusts. He reached out and grabbed her buttocks in his hands as they ground themselves against each other faster and faster, until he felt he could no longer contain himself.

With a guttural cry, he felt his hips jerk as he was overwhelmed by the intensity of his release. He ground against her as her own body stiffened and they spasmodically mashed their bodies together. He saw her wobble a bit and then fall forward panting, with her head on his shoulder and their sweat mixing in a pool on his chest.

Finally Anora rolled off him and they lay beside each other, still panting from the exertion. When Michael turned to look at her, she was already regarding him.

Their eyes met for a while and then he reached out and gently lifted her chin until her mouth was close to his. He slowly lowered his face and planted a soft lingering kiss on her mouth.

When he broke the kiss she lay unmoving with closed eyes and slightly parted lips. She looked so sensual and beautiful that he had to kiss her again. This time he gently parted her lips further until he could touch her tongue with his.

Slowly they explored the kiss together. When he finally lifted his head again, she blinked a little and looked at him wonderingly. A huge grin spread on his face.

"I think I can get used to sharing bed like this," he murmured to her. "As a temporary solution, of course," he added in a mock serious tone.

"Well… we'll see," she answered him noncommittally, but her eyes glittered mischievously as she spoke.

* * *

Ser Gavren had no idea what time it was when he heard a knock on the door to the bed room he'd been allotted near the soldier's quarters. He tried to ignore the sound, but another insistent knock forced him up.

Still not fully awake, he got up. He fumbled with the door knob, before he could open the door and peer out. To his surprise he found Erlina stand outside in her nightgown holding a candle.

"Erlina! What's the matter?" he asked her.

"I couldn't sleep," she answered making a wry face. "My bedchamber is next to Anora's, and she and Michael are too noisy."

"Are they arguing in the middle of the night?" Gavren wondered.

"No, silly," she answered him. "They're just very noisy, you know—in bed."

"Oh!" Gavren said embarrassed.

"So… can I come in?" Erlina asked and smiled at him.

"Well, I guess so," Gavren replied hesitantly and let her in.

"What do you want me to do?" he continued and closed the door behind her, still not sure what she was after.

"Oh, we'll think of something," she answered and giggled as she let her garb fall to the floor.


	14. Harsh Lessons

Chapter 14. Harsh Lessons

The next morning Anora was already up and out of their bed chamber when Michael woke again, and he realized that she must've slipped out of their bed without waking him. The woman seemed to have boundless energy. Going to bed much later than him, and she was up and about while he still slumbered.

He had just rubbed sleep out of his eyes and was about to get up when he heard a knock on the door.

"Teyrn Michael, are you awake?" called a voice on the other side of the door.

"Give me a minute and I will be," he replied and sat up.

"Very good, ser. Your bath is ready now," the voice continued.

Michael realized that a nice hot bath was a luxury he hadn't enjoyed for ages. He quickly put on his tunic and breeches, before opening the door.

Outside, servants waited large buckets of hot water and, as soon as he opened the door, they entered the bed chamber and filled the tub inside with heated water. A woman finished by dropping some dried rose petals into the water. Michael drew in the smell of soap and flowers smiling.

The servants looked away politely as he undressed and slipped into the hot scented water. As soon as he had seated himself, he closed his eyes and sighed contentedly as the water's magic loosened his muscles.

When he opened his eyes again, one of the servants had disappeared with his old clothes and another had placed new clothes on a stool next to the tub. _Anora sure was quick about getting him new clothes,_ he thought wryly. None of the servants had even asked what, if any, clothes he wanted.

When he got out of the hot water and dried himself, he examined the clothes brought forth. The new breeches were made of thin, supple leather that must have been very expensive. They felt remarkably easy to move in. The other garment was a loose, gray linen shirt with some light gold embroidery at the hems. Finally he found a pair of boots that matched the breeches, even if the leather was thicker. All in all, he was quite pleased. If this was Anora's idea of proper attire for a teyrn, they should be able to get along just fine.

As he finished getting dressed, he heard feet coming up the stairs and then saw Anora enter the bed chamber.

"Ah, good, you're finally awake, husband," Anora said briskly. "Hurry up and get something to eat, we need to get you dressed properly soon."

"I just got dressed," Michael said surprised. "Look, I put on the clothes your servants brought me."

"Yes, yes, of course," she answered. "But I mean getting dressed properly. How you dress here in our private quarters is of less importance, but you can't look like that for official occasions."

With a sinking feeling, Michael followed Anora downstairs. Things might not be as easy as he first had hoped.

"So, which way is the kitchen then?" Michael asked, when they came down into the main hall.

"Why do you want to know that?" Anora asked frowning.

"I need some breakfast now," Michael answered her, wondering if she'd already forgotten that. In Highever, breakfast had often been an informal thing and, more often than not, Michael would just grab something from the kitchen and eat with the servants, even if Eleanor had tried in vain to cure him of that habit.

"Don't be ridiculous, we're not in the wilds anymore," Anora answered stiffly. "I expect you to eat in the dining hall like I do here."

"But you've already eaten," Michael hastened to reply. "I'll just go down to the kitchen and get some bread and cheese. No need to have all the servants worked up because of that."

Anora looked disapprovingly at him before she made a brief nod in the direction of one door.

"I'll expect to see you here again shortly," she said frostily, as she turned and left the hall.

* * *

Anora paced back and forth irritably in the main hall. Meeting Michael this morning, she'd begun to realize that she really had her work cut out for her if she was ever to keep her husband from becoming an embarrassment to her.

She sighed to herself at the thought of him. Out in the woods, he'd been a dangerous brigand and she had almost been swept away by the wild energy he had exhibited. The situation had been extreme, but the passion he'd awakened in her had been irresistible. Now she was home and finally regaining her bearings. She didn't want to stop enjoying their time in bed, but he had to learn to be responsible now. Not just for her, but for his own sake. He was Teyrn of Gwaren and was likely the last of his Cousland blood.

When Michael finally sauntered back from the kitchen he greeted her with mischievous grin, and looked like a naughty boy who had just gotten away with a particularly offensive prank.

"So, there you are," she said apprehensively. "What took you so long?"

"Oh, I had a long nice conversation with a lovely old woman who claims to be your old nanny."

"You talked to Nan?" Anora replied, frowning. "Whatever could you two have to talk about?"

"Oh, we talked about lots of things… Buttercup," Michael answered smiling innocently.

Anora cringed inwardly. _Curse that batty old woman!_ Why did Nan have to tell that horrible old nickname to Michael? Now she'd never hear the end of it.

"Come!" she snapped curtly and swept away towards a side room where she'd arranged for a number of suitable clothes to be laid out for Michael. He sauntered after her smiling, still holding a half-eaten apple in his hand.

Michael didn't prove too difficult, but he still managed to exasperate her with his nonchalant attitude. It was good that he basically accepted whatever piece of clothing she suggested he should add to his wardrobe without protest, but it disturbed her that he didn't seem to care more.

She had a nagging suspicion she'd have to watch him carefully to make sure he dressed properly for state occasions. What galled her most was that she really had no personal interest in clothing either. She'd just learned that it was something that one had to do correctly to be able to impress people as a ruler. Now she had to do it for him, too, because Michael just couldn't seem to be bothered.

"That's better," she said finally, satisfied that he had enough decent clothing to appear passably in public. "Now, let's go and meet the household staff."

* * *

The next two weeks became a whirl of bewildering names and numbers for Michael to learn as Anora tried to teach him how Gwaren was administered. It was soon painfully obvious that Anora's expectations were not the same as his. Michael had always tired easily when Aldous and his father had tried to teach him about the art of accounting and administration. Now Anora seemed determined to cram into two weeks what the others had failed to teach him in ten years.

As Michael's unwillingness to learn became evident, things had become increasingly frosty between them. They still made love every night, but without much of the passion from the first two nights.

Today, Michael hadn't even tried to be with Anora. He wanted to try and make the best of their marriage and being a teyrn, but as long as she insisted on endless lectures, he could only stand her so much.

He figured it was better if she ran the administration herself and told her that he needed to prepare the army for the campaign to retake Highever. When Anora tried to protest, he also told her that he needed to deal with security in the city. Obviously it had been lax as he'd made away with her so easily. That had earned him a glare, but she'd made no further protests.

Michael had set the day aside for talking to the commanders to get a feel for them and their companies. Personal acquaintance of all subordinates was crucial to good leadership. That was one of his father's rules he'd always taken to heart.

He met with Ser Gavren in the courtyard directly after breakfast. In order to keep Gavren near, without unduly upsetting any of the army by giving an outsider a position of command over one of the current captains, he'd made him his personal aide and leader of his body guard.

Together the walked over to a smaller courtyard where the officers and champions of the army often sparred and discussed. He'd postponed this meeting because he knew he would be put to the test here. They were soldiers used to be led by Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir. Even he had married Loghain's daughter, he had no illusions he would be accepted here without proving himself.

When he entered the courtyard, he saw two armored men sparring with each other using practice swords while a dozen or so other men and women watched them.

"Greetings, Teyrn," a large bearded man said. "We were just busy sparring here while waiting for you to arrive."

Michael smiled to himself. It was all carefully planned, of course. Soon he would be _spontaneously_ invited to join them and then the best among them would try to beat him up as badly as possible.

"I could do with some exercise myself," Michael sad smiling. He might as well get it over with and suggest it himself. He intended to teach these people a lesson too.

The two contestants stopped circling each other and they all eyed each other.

"Very well, Teyrn Michael," a heavy set man with dark hair and complexion said. "My name is Ser Torgel and I'll be happy to oblige."

Michael let a squire put on him relatively light silverite armor, while he saw his opponent was being dressed in massive plate. He tried size his opponent up as his armor was strapped to him. His opponent was obviously heavier than him, but he would also be slower.

His best chance to win would be to put his opponent on the defensive as quickly as possible, but this Torgel seemed to be an experienced warrior, so he'd need to be quick and surprise him to be assured of victory. At the same time he didn't want it to be too quick. If he won like that they would tell themselves it had just been a lucky break.

He needed to win resoundingly—provided he could win at all, of course. He had no idea how good this Ser Torgel really was.

Michael picked up a few practice swords and tested them for weight and balance, before picking two that fit him. Then he went to stand face to face with Ser Torgel. The low murmur from the onlookers slowly died down and everyone watched them intently.

"Shall we?" Ser Torgel called to him. Michael nodded and they both started circling each other.

Michael watched his opponent's movements and as Torgel did the same. Seeing nothing that changed his initial assessment, he decided to not wait anymore and used his speed to his advantage. In three quick steps, Michael closed the distance between them and brought down his first sword in a quick slash. Torgel parried, but even as he did, Michael had his other sword come down from the left.

Michael rained blows on Ser Torgel to keep him off balance, while looking for an opening. Most of his blows were just aimed at keeping Ser Torgel on the defensive. As long as his opponent was busy blocking him, he couldn't hit him. Then it was just a question of time until he found an opening.

Evidently Ser Torgel realized the same thing as he tried to back away from Michael to gain some respite, but Michael kept closing on him. Finally Ser Torgel's guard slipped and Michael got his opening. He swung his sword below the heavier warrior's raised shield and hit the side of his leg. It made him lean forward and Michael finished with a heavy blow right on Torgel's head with the other sword.

For a moment Ser Torgel stood, trying to regains his balance, and then he toppled to one knee. The onlookers were all silent.

"I… I yield, Teyrn Michael," Torgel said unsteadily.

"Come now, ser," Michael said and removed his helmet smiling. "We're only sparring. No need to be so formal."

He knew he'd beaten the man and so did the onlookers. Now was the time to be a magnanimous winner. He needed their loyalty, not to humiliate them.

"Now maybe we should get to know each other better, sers. We have a lot of planning to do.

* * *

Michael was quite pleased with the day's work. The captains in Anora's army had been understandably careful around him at first. They all knew that he was the former leader of the Black Griffons, an enemy they saw as only brigands and outlaws. Still, he'd managed to use his charm and determination to earn some grudging respect from them. More importantly, he had listened to their grievances and done his best to organize things that needed addressing.

When he had first invited them to talk freely about the situation, none of them had spoken, but eventually some of the boldest captains mentioned the worst problem was the lack of payment. It seemed Loghain had been paying them with nothing more than empty promises for quite some time.

Michael wouldn't been able to settle that overnight, but he could at least see to it that everyone got a month's salary in back payment that day. He hesitated for a while—this would be a defining moment for him. He knew these men deserved to be paid, and he could read in their eyes that they would judge him on his response. His first thought was to check with Anora first, but he knew this wasn't the right moment. He decided he needed to prove to these soldiers that he was in charge and not dependant on his wife's good wishes.

He ordered two soldiers follow him into the treasury and dispersed enough silver to pay every man one month's salary with a promise that he would try to settle things as soon as possible.

That gesture had earned him a lot of goodwill, as it put some much needed coin in the soldiers' pockets. He feared it would cost him another row with Anora however, as he had to delve substantially into the teyrnir's treasury to pay for it. He knew it had been important for morale, and was sure she would understand in the end, though.

Now it was late evening and he figured he had missed supper by an hour or so, but he didn't want to break off in the middle of a very good discussion with some of his senior commanders now that they'd finally begun to warm to him.

"So, there you are husband!"

Michael turned away and saw Anora standing in the doorway, watching him angrily. Her tone as she spoke the word "_husband_", made him cringe inwardly.

"I'm sorry, dear," Michael said and tried to remain calm. He didn't want a scene in front of his closest subordinates. "I must have missed dinner."

"Oh, you worry about proper dining hours. That's good to know," Anora replied in a voice dripping with venom. "The fact that you've just spent a quarter of our treasury's silver doesn't worry you, but at least you realize you missed dinner."

Despite his resolve to remain calm, Michael felt his anger rise.

"It was done for a very good reason," he said after taking a deep breath. "Your father hadn't paid the army for months. These men deserved to be paid, and there might have been desertions if I hadn't acted promptly."

"Well, Maker forgive us if any of your precious playthings left," Anora retorted angrily. "I've tried to put this teyrnir back in order after the ravages of the civil war. In my stupidity, I married a man who I thought could help me."

"You gave away good coin without even bothering to consult with me!" she continued.

Anora turned and swept out of the room, leaving Michael clenching his fists in humiliation, so furious his vision was almost red.

The knights and captains in the room looked away, nervous and embarrassed by the scene.

"Sers, I apologize for having to witness this unfortunate incident," he heard himself say. "I think we should reconvene again tomorrow."

There was a murmur of consent from the others and then they hurriedly excused themselves and left.

Michael slowly massaged his temples and then he spat on the floor. Anora had gone too far this time. He wasn't a child and she would learn she couldn't treat him as such!


	15. Pride and Prejudice

_Author's note: This chapter contains explicit sexual content of a sort that may not be to every ones taste. If this isn't your cup of tea, then just stop reading and look elsewhere. There are thousands of other good stories on this site well worth reading. Seriously._

* * *

Chapter 15. Pride and Prejudice

He marched out of the commanders' office and crossed the courtyard to the main building in the castle.

"Did the Teyrna go inside?" he asked the guards outside the door.

"Yes, ser, I mean… uh… Teyrn," the guard replied nervously.

Michael didn't see Anora inside the building and a quick inquiry to the servants confirmed his suspicion that his wife had retired to their private quarters.

He almost ran up the stairs and emerged at the top with his temples pulsing as much from the exertion as fury.

Anora talking to Erlina in their bedchamber, but both of them stopped and turned toward him when they saw him.

"Erlina," Michael said, struggling to control his voice. "Will you please excuse us? I need to talk to my wife."

Erlina looked nervously from Michael to Anora, without moving.

"Now, please!" Michael commanded.

Erlina looked at Anora, but she refused to move or say anything. Finally, Erlina curtseyed and hurried away down the stairs.

"Well, say what you have to say then," Anora said curtly.

Michael looked at Anora, his emotions now slightly torn at the sight of her. He was still furious at her, but at the same time she looked so proud and beautiful where she stood regarding him haughtily. Why was everything about her that upset him, the very things that made her so attractive?

He decided to make one last attempt to reason with her.

"Anora, please," he said. "We may have our differences and maybe I should have consulted you first about the payment, but don't humiliate me in front of the men I need to command in battle. If they don't trust me, I can't lead them!"

Anora looked at him wordlessly, and then she snorted and walked out on the balcony. Michael followed her.

"Please, try and understand me," he whispered as he leaned down to kiss her cheek, touching her elbow, but she angrily pulled away.

"Don't," she said and went back inside. When he still followed her, she turned to look at him disdainfully.

"It's no use, Michael," she said. "This was all a stupid mistake. I thought I married a man, but you're just an irresponsible little boy, like Cailan, worried what your playmates think of you."

Michael stared at her with a mixture of astonishment and humiliation. Then rage seized him. Ferelden was still suffering from a darkspawn invasion and she knew he had sworn to retake his ancestral home. Every soldier and knight would be needed, and she had the gall to whine about a few silvers.

Ever since he had come to Gwaren he had at least tried to be a good teyrn, despite the fact that it didn't suit him. Through all this Anora had only voiced complaint and disdain, but this was too much. She had no right to compare him to King Cailan. He would never sacrifice his soldiers for some reckless dream of glory, the way Cailan had done at Ostagar.

"I've had it with you, Anora," he said furiously.

"Oh, really?" she replied scornfully.

"You may be the daughter of one of Ferelden's greatest generals," he continued, tone rising in anger, "but what you know about leading soldiers in war than could fit inside a thimble. If those soldiers don't trust me to lead them, people will die in battle. Is your precious coin worth more than soldiers' lives?"

From the way her face blanched, he knew his words had struck home. But she lifted her chin and replied icily, "You should still have asked me before you withdrew all that silver from the treasury."

Michael shook his head and looked at her with clenched teeth. One way or another he had to make her take this seriously. If she thought he was just playing when he tried to act responsibly as general, their marriage was doomed.

"You've gone too far this time, Anora. Just because you're home in Gwaren, you seem to think I'm your lackey and not your husband. It's time to teach you a lesson."

"You wouldn't dare!" she hissed angrily, but she still backed away from him.

Three long strides closed the distance between them. Anora raised her hand to slap him, but he caught her hand in a steel grip. She twisted in his hold, trying furiously to get away from him, but he refused to let go. Then he raised his other hand and reached for her.

"I'll kill you if you hit me," she shrieked, eyes wide in alarm.

"I'm only going to do what should have been done a long time ago," Michael replied grimly. Before she could react, he dragged her unceremoniously with him towards their bed.

"Stop it! Let me go, you brute!" she yelled squirming and kicking.

He sat down heavily on the bed and pulled her facedown on her stomach over his knees, one arm tightening across her back so she couldn't bolt.

"What are you doing?" Anora shrieked. "Unhand me at once!"

"Not before I teach you a lesson," Michael replied, and pulled the hem of her dress up with his free hand, revealing her slim, kicking legs and shapely behind. Momentarily distracted, he put his hand on her buttock and couldn't resist caressing it. For a moment, he forgot his anger as her exposed flesh, clad in only a thin layer of lacy silk, reminded him how attractive she was. Impossible woman, there were other things he'd rather be doing with his new wife than teaching her a long overdue lesson on respect and courtesy, but this needed to be done and resolved between them.

He shook his head. _Focus, Michael, _he thought.

* * *

Realizing just how angry she's made her husband, Anora had been alarmed at first. But when he'd placed her across his knees in this humiliating position and started to caress her bottom, that alarm changed to anger.

"If this is your idea of seduction, you're out of your mind," she spat as she struggled to escape his grip. "Stop this at once!"

A sudden sharp sting of pain made her yelp. He had slapped her! He had actually slapped her behind like some naughty child.

"First lesson, Anora," he said. "You_ will_ respect me."

"What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?" she cried.

Then she felt a new stab of pain as he slapped her again on her other buttock.

"That didn't sound at all respectful. You act like a spoiled child, wife, so expect to be treated as one," Michael told her.

She continued to squirm under his touch, but to her horror she discovered that somehow a part of her got a perverse enjoyment from his treatment. Even if he exasperated her, she had missed this darker, dangerous part of his personality after their wedding.

His hand touched her buttocks and she steeled herself for another slap. Instead he caressed her bottom gently. Thinking the punishment was over; she wriggled in his grasp, trying to get off his lap. She felt the hand holding her down tighten, holding her there, and the hand caressing her backside rose once more.

The sharp crack of another slap rang out in the room and she hissed as it made her flesh jump. By now both cheeks were stinging and her face was red with a combination of anger, humiliation and desire.

Again his hand came to rest on her stinging buttocks and this time moved lower, tracing the inside of her thigh. She squeezed her legs together as hard as she could to prevent him, but in her position, it wasn't very effective. She had felt her traitorous body get wet and willing and wanted desperately to keep him from discovering it.

"Stop resisting and accept your punishment," she heard him say. His breath seemed to be coming in short pants. _Maker's mercy, was he as affected by this as she was_? she wondered.

She cried out loud as he slapped her again, and this time she couldn't bring herself to really try preventing him from reaching between her thighs afterwards. She did squirm away from his touch, but the result was only that she got more aroused by it. By now, her contortions also alerted her to the fact that his arousal was very obvious beneath her.

"Maker's breath, let go of me, you bastard," she panted, even as she pressed herself against him.

He let go of her to lift up her dress even further and she immediately undulated out of his hold and crawled from his lap onto the bed. He twisted himself around after her and caught her leg. She tried to kick herself lose, but he held on and crawled up to grab her thigh.

Still on all fours she felt him pull up the dress again and then simply grab her flimsy small clothes and push them aside to reveal her bare buttocks and the pink folds beneath.

"No," she moaned, finally giving in to what she felt as he continued to caress her and slide his fingers along her now painfully sensitive flesh. "Not like this. This isn't… dignified."

There was a rustle behind her as he removed his belt and dropped his breeches. Quivering with anticipation, she felt him grab her hip with one hand even as the other guided him to her entrance.

She moaned loudly as he finally drove his shaft into her from behind. She balled the sheets in her fists as he started to thrust into her again and again. Heedless of her former protests, she pushed herself to meet his every move.

Finally her whole body trembled from the maddening pleasure that inflamed her whole being. She was so close, but something wouldn't allow her to reach the release she so desperately craved. She pushed herself harder and harder against him in desperation as the final step eluded her.

"You bastard," she groaned in distress.

"What… do you want, Anora?" he responded breathlessly, even as he continued to thrust into her.

"You _know_ what I want, you bastard!"she hissed.

"Say it."

"Do it again," she whispered.

"I'm sorry… I didn't quite … catch that?"

"_Do it again, you bastard_!"she cried out.

"You can do better… than that."

She almost sobbed in frustration. But in the end her pride was no match for the desperate need that filled every fiber of her and almost drove her out of her mind.

"Please," she moaned. "Please… do it."

In response Michael lifted his right hand from her hip and slapped her reddened buttock one more time and then again harder. She gasped as the stabs of pain intertwined with the pleasure and finally brought her across the threshold.

"Please, please, please," she moaned as a litany, as her whole body convulsed and she was swept away by the violent intensity of her release.

Suddenly a sharp shout echoed in the room.

"_You people are sick_!_ Stop that right now_!"

* * *

For a moment, Michael froze, unable to grasp what was happening. Completely lost in the intensity of their release, the shout didn't register in his mind at first. Then he turned and saw a dark figure standing in the doorway to the balcony, brandishing a sword.

Instinct rather than thought made him release Anora and dive for his own sword, while Anora shrieked and tried to hide. Then Michael gasped in sudden recognition as the intruder stepper further into the room and light fell on his face. Dumbstruck, Michael gaped at the man with the sword, while the blushing Anora pulled her dress down to cover herself.

"Mi…Michael…" the intruder stammered.

Michael stared back at his brother, Fergus Cousland, wide-eyed. What mad miracle had brought his lost brother here into his bedchamber? Then a huge grin broke in his face.

"Fergus! Maker's breath, _you're alive_!"

Pausing only to yank his breeches back up, Michael bounded off the bed and rushed to embrace his brother. He held his big brother fiercely, and felt tears slipping out of Fergus's eyes. He was seized by a wondrous elation. He wasn't the last. Maker's breath, he wasn't the last anymore.

"Doesn't anyone in your family use the front door?" Michael winced at the acrimony in her voice before he remembered the scene that Fergus had walked in on. In that light, it was remarkable how quickly she had regained her composure.

Michael leaned over Anora and kissed her cheek.

"Not to worry, buttercup, I'll take him to task for his lack of decorum. Don't you move, I'll be back to attend to you shortly."

"No need to hurry," Anora said acridly. "I think we're quite finished for the evening."

"Don't be like that, dear," Michael teased. "I told you security was atrocious here."

"And we agreed that you would be responsible for improving it. Just do your job, and leave me be."

"Give me a moment. I'm getting the intruder out of your bedroom now," Michael replied. He saw Fergus look at him and Anora, eyes wide in wonder, and winked at him.

Tying the laces on his breeches quickly, he led Fergus out of the room and into an adjacent chamber so they could talk privately.

"I…I thought you were dead," Fergus said, gripping his brother's arm as if to reassure himself that Michael was really there.

"I only thought I should do something. I had this wild idea to attack or abduct the Queen. I had no idea."

"I know what you mean," Michael said laughing. "I had the same thought."

The situation was absurd, but as much as he was delighted by his brother's unexpected return, Michael felt the need to return at once to Anora, after the unexpected emotional explosion between them.

"It's a long story. "Let me have the servants set you up in a room, we can talk later. Suffice to say, I've had quite an adventure the past few months."

"Wait, there's someone with me," Fergus insisted. "I have to go get her! She'll be so thrilled to see you're alive!"

A bit later, Fergus returned with Bann Sighard's daughter, Leah. Michael knew her well. Her family had been frequent guests at Highever Castle for years and he remembered Leah as a skinny little tomboy with black hair and green eyes that he and Fergus used to call "pest." Now she had grown up into a very attractive young woman and Michael could see that Fergus was clearly smitten by her.

"So, married to Anora Mac Tir, eh?" Fergus teased, when they had returned. "Mother and Father would have been thrilled to see you settling down."

Michael laughed, hiding his embarrassment.

"She's a damn fine woman, but I'll admit I was more interested in her army than in her when we wed," Michael hastened to answer. "We are going to need one to retake Highever."

He wasn't ready to discuss the exact nature of his relationship with Anora, especially when he hardly understood it himself.

"Anyway, this can all wait till morning. Fergus caught me…in a delicate moment with my wife, Leah, so you'll excuse me if I attend to that before the bed grows cold again."

"Fergus! You didn't!" Leah gasped.

"I thought…I…" Fergus looked sheepishly at them and then grew silent. Michael couldn't help but wonder how much Fergus had really heard when he stormed in on them.

"Come here, pest, and give me a hug," said Michael, holding out his arms to Leah. "We'll talk in the morning."

"I'm so glad you're alive," Leah murmured into his ear as he bent to hug her. "You have no idea what this means to Fergus."

"Really, I do, Leah," he said with a grin.

Michael left them to rouse a sleepy servant and task him with showing Fergus and Leah to a guest room. Then he slipped away as the servant led them down the stairs.

He wasn't quite ready to take in everything that had happened this evening, but he just knowing Fergus was alive, let alone doing well, filled him with joy, relief and other emotions he couldn't even put in words. The sudden emotional changes also left him drained and he knew something with certainty as he walked back to his bedchamber—he needed to see Anora.


	16. Keeping Appearances

Chapter 16. Keeping Appearances

Michael hesitated a moment before entering the bedchamber. Anora was curled up, her back facing his side of the bed. She didn't acknowledge him in any way when he slowly entered then room and walked over to the bed.

"Anora," he began softly as he climbed in to the bed beside her.

"I trust everything is well with your brother," Anora said in a neutral tone.

"Yes, Fergus is just fine. He has a girlfriend it seems, Bann Sighard's daughter Leah."

"Oh, good for him," Anora continued sarcastically, still refusing to turn and face him.

"Listen dear, before Fergus interrupted us—" Michael tried to say.

"Don't!" Anora interrupted him in a strained voice. "There's nothing to discuss! That...that never happened. Do you understand?"

Michael waited a moment, and then he slid over next to her and tenderly stroked her hair.

"If you say so, dear, but whatever happened, or… didn't happen, is between you and me and no one else will ever know."

She didn't respond, but neither did she pull away from his touch. He wasn't sure what to say to her. He'd been surprised at the strength of the emotions that had overtaken them, but he wasn't completely innocent to such games in bed. To him it was just that—a game. Something he had enjoyed without questioning or second guessing too much. He wasn't sure when his anger had turned to desire, but he had felt their need instinctively and acted upon it.

It seemed, though, that it was far more complex to her and he didn't know if he had the words to talk about it, or even thoughts to express it. So he just lay beside her and continued to stroke her hair, until he felt her breathing grow slow and rhythmic with sleep.

What had that moment of release really meant to her, he wondered? She acted ashamed and embarrassed, but he knew it had been real desire and even need when it happened.

He began to wonder about her. She seemed to have such a hard time acknowledging her own desires. Was that because of her life as a Queen? How hard was it to always be perfect and in command? Never to have been allowed to be weak or childish? It seemed that she'd been raised only to be a Queen, never just as a girl or a woman.

Maker's breath, what had her father and Maric done to her? Michael sighed to himself as he hugged her sleeping form close.

His thoughts returned to his brother Fergus. He found himself caught in a storm of conflicting emotions. The powerful emotional release with Anora and then Fergus's sudden return had left him unsettled and feeling vulnerable.

He was overjoyed that Fergus was alive and well, but somehow Fergus's arrival made other things seem more real—his parent's death and the massacre of everything he had held dear at Highever.

So far all his thoughts had been bent on retaking Highever. With newfound clarity, he realized that part of him had believed that if he only could do that, then it would somehow bring back his childhood. Now he knew that all that was truly lost and gone forever.

This was all he had left now: his brother and a wife he wasn't sure he'd ever understand. As he lay down with his face buried in Anora's golden hair, he felt tears forming in his eyes.

"Mom, Dad," he whispered to himself.

The next moment he sobbed and felt the tears run freely. Michael hugged his sleeping wife tightly as he cried himself to sleep.

* * *

Anora lay still, pretending to be asleep, as she felt her husband slowly stilled. Her conflicting emotions were all in a tangle. What they had done, what she had done, was so embarrassing. When Fergus had burst in, she thought she might actually die of mortification. As humiliating as that was, she couldn't deny the pleasure she found in their acts, or that she had actually been angry that they were interrupted.

She listened to Michael's quiet sobs. She was torn between concern and awkwardness at Michael's tears, feeling like an intruder on his emotional release. He obviously believed her asleep and it seemed rude to let him know that she was awake, even if to try and comfort him. It wasn't as if she would have a clue about what to say anyway.

Presumably, he must be mourning his parents and all that implied of a lost childhood. Everything had been torn from him and slaughtered in that massacre, everything but his brother Fergus. With a start, she realized she had never seen him show the least bit of weakness in front of others, and wondered if he'd ever had a chance to grieve for his family.

Her thoughts turned to her own life. She'd lost her own father, too, butchered right in front of her eyes. She had loved and hated Loghain, but he'd always been distant from her. Mostly, she remembered him as a stern taskmaster or simply absent, no matter how much she had wished to be closer to him.

Despite Michael's obvious grief, part of her envied him. She had never had a childhood to mourn. She had been alone all her life, groomed to be Queen from earliest age. That was what she'd always been expected to be. When that had been taken from her, when Alistair had been chosen to be king, she'd been lost. If she wasn't the Queen, then who was she?

She realized now that she had been vulnerable when Michael had crashed into her life, leaving her open and exposed to be exploited. But since they'd met, he'd opened her eyes to a different world than the one she had known before, a world of passion and physical delight.

The most disturbing part of the intense sexual release she had found with him was that she had been so unaware of having these emotions inside her. She had always sought safety in controlling things in her life, but there was no controlling her new husband, and now it seemed she didn't even have control over her own body when she was with him. He had played her like an instrument, plucking on her strings and making her dance like a puppet to his ministrations. It thrilled and frightened her at the same time. Why was everything about him that upset her, the very things that made him so attractive?

She was drawn to the dangerous side of him. That much was clear to her now. He'd tried in his own way to placate her and be a proper husband, but in the end his inability to be something he wasn't had only irritated her. Then he had showed her his darker side again and she'd been unable to resist him. Had she truly fought him, she knew he wouldn't have forced her. Whatever else she might think, she believed that he would keep his word. So now she couldn't hide from the fact that she had allowed—and even enjoyed—what they had done tonight. His irresistible wildness had resonated in her, too.

She was only too aware of people whispering and calling her "the Ice Queen" behind her back. Maybe she should learn to let go more? But this… _thing _Michael had released in her was madness. The total abandon of it frightened and embarrassed her, even as she wondered if she would be able to resist coming back for more.

He moved in his sleep and he put his hand on her breast. She lay still, wondering if more would follow, but he still slept soundly, even as he clung to her. Overcome with a sudden tenderness, she sniffled and wiped a tear she hadn't known had been there. Then she clasped her hand over his.

Maybe her feelings for Michael weren't something she could analyze or understand, only accept or reject. And she didn't think she could reject him, whatever she thought about him.

Slowly she allowed herself to drift off to sleep, still clasping his hand to her breast.

* * *

When Michael woke up, he felt Anora moving beside him. He slowly opened his eyes and saw her sit on the edge of the bed, watching him. Still trying to clear the sleepiness from his head, he sort of half sat up.

One by one, all the events of yesterday came back to him. No wonder he felt so drained. He watched Anora carefully, looking intently for any lingering anger or resentment, but she only seemed a little nervous.

Whatever had passed between them, she seemed to not be upset with him at the moment. He wanted to say something to her, but couldn't think of anything to say that didn't sound crass or stupid, so instead he reached out and squeezed her hand lightly. She flashed him a brief smile and squeezed back. Then her face sobered and she got up.

"I'll go downstairs and see if our guests are up," she said as she left him. "I expect you to be down as soon as you are decent."

"That may take a while, buttercup," Michael said and scratched his head, yawning.

"No doubt, but I'm not aiming too high, today," she answered, snorting. "Just get cleaned up, get dressed and come down to the dining room… dear."

The last word had come almost as an afterthought. It was the first obvious word of endearment she'd ever used with him.

Wondering, Michael got out of bed and prepared to go down and meet his brother.

When he climbed down the stairs to the main hall, some time later he found Anora frowning, listening to a courier that seemed to have just arrived.

"What's happening?" Michael asked as he approached them.

"The darkspawn horde is marching on Denerim," Anora told him grimly, "and the King's army is away at Redcliffe. The city may fall before the army can even give battle."

"That's not all, Teyrna!" the frightened courier added. "The Grey Wardens claim to have seen the archdemon leading the horde. It's… it's a Blight."

"A Blight?" Anora asked, almost whispering. "Are they really sure about that?"

"Yes, Teyrna," the courier replied.

"That's it! We have to do something," Michael said. He felt a knot of fear inside, but also a familiar excitement. No adventure could possibly beat fighting a real Blight.

At that moment, Fergus entered the hall and approached them smiling. But his smile faded as he saw Michael's determined face.

"What's the matter?" he asked them.

"The darkspawn are marching on Denerim and they're led by an archdemon," Michael explained quickly. "It's a real Blight."

"A Blight threatening Denerim!" Fergus gasped wide-eyed, "We can't just stay here and do nothing. We have to help. Do you have a plan?"

"Alistair's army will need days to reach to Denerim, even if they push it," Michael explained. "Marching, we wouldn't make it in time either, but we can sail to Denerim faster than they can march. With luck, we can reach Denerim in time to bolster the defences."

Fergus nodded. "There won't be time to muster any levies. You'd have to just take the soldiers available here in Gwaren and go right away."

This time it was Michael's turn to nod. "Let's prepare ourselves then. "I'll raise the soldiers and you can help yourself to whatever you need from the armory."

Michael clasped Fergus's arm with a grin.

"It's good to go to war with you this time, brother. Together no one can stop us!"

Then he turned to look at Anora, who had watched them impassively.

"I'm sorry, buttercup, but it seems Fergus and I need to be going now."

* * *

Anora had watched the two brothers' excited talk with a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach. Michael was going to war with the army against the Blight. No, he was going to pit himself with a small, outnumbered force trying to stop the Blight until the army arrived. It was madness, and he only seemed excited by the prospect.

"Have no fear, my dear. We'll be back soon," he said smiling at her. "It's better this way. I was made for war, not running a teyrni in peace and we both know it."

"Besides, the worst that can happen is that you'll be free of this marriage I made you agree to," he said and winked at her. "Right, dear?"

Anora clenched her hands into fists and then forced herself to relax.

"Of course, husband. You're quite correct," she replied in a measured voice.

It was so unfair, she thought desperately. She'd seen her first husband, Cailan, go off to war smiling and never return. She had seen her father assure her, smiling, that she shouldn't worry before he marched off to a disastrous battle he survived only to have it spark a civil war that ended with his death at the Landsmeet. Now she had to watch Michael prepare to go to war with the same confident smile on his face.

Why now, when she had only just begun to feel real affection for him, would he also be torn away from her? She wanted to cry and rage at the injustice of it all. She wanted to order him to stay or even beg him to not go.

Instead she did what she had always done, her duty—her duty as Teyrna and wife.

"Take care, husband," she said softly. "I'll go send couriers to the council and tell everyone to prepare us for war."

Then Anora slowly walked out of the hall, stone-faced, as Michael and Fergus excitedly discussed preparations.

"My lady? Is everything alright?" Erlina said hurrying to her side.

"Of course it is!" she replied tartly, and then she tried to compose herself again. It wouldn't do to allow servants to see her so unnerved.

"Erlina, don't disturb me now," she said. "Please go and wake the guest that arrived with the Teyrn's brother instead. I'm sure she wants to come and say goodbye."

Anora took a last look at Michael and blinked back angry tears before she begun to prepare for her husband to march off to war.

* * *

Anora only said a perfunctorily goodbye to Michael, accepting a quick kiss on her cheek before she hastened away. She knew her duty was to be calm and reassuring, just as he would be. She would show no concern, only smile and wish them all to return soon victoriously.

Then she went to stand on the balcony to watch him ride out with his brother. Beside her, Leah stood teary-eyed watching them leave. Anora frowned at the woman. Leah had much to learn. It was a soldier's wife's duty to let a happy face be the last he saw before marching away, possibly to his death.

"Don't cry," she said without emotion. "He's a Cousland. He'll risk his life in some insane and unnecessary manner, but he'll survive. That's what they always do."

It was almost enough to make herself believe her own words. Michael was a survivor and he thrived on danger. He would come back. He had to come back

Leaving the grieving Leah alone on the balcony—better that the woman address her emotions in private—she went back inside. Once there, she immediately headed for her private chambers.

"Do you require anything else, my lady?" Erlina asked her, but she only shook her head dismissively.

Only when she was alone at last did she allow herself to fall on their big empty bed and sob.

"Maker, please make him come back!" she whispered to herself.


	17. Family Duty

Chapter 17. Family duty

The Blight was ended.

Denerim was a wreck but thanks to the army from Gwaren, the defenders had been able to hold long enough for Grey Wardens and their army to arrive and the loss of life hadn't been nearly as great as it could have been.

Fergus and Michael had stayed long enough to see the horde routed upon the death of the archdemon, a spectacular end that had come in a huge flash of light on the roof of Fort Drakon. It was said the Grey Warden mage, the same one Fergus had met in the inn outside the Circle Tower months ago, had delivered the killing blow on the Old God.

Unable to wait, Fergus had pressed Michael to return to Gwaren. Michael had smiled at Fergus's obvious impatience to return to Leah, but the truth was that once the battle was won, his thoughts kept returning to his wife, Anora.

Anora was simply unlike any woman he'd ever met, and in many ways she was still a mystery to him. One moment she would cry out his name in ecstasy, the next she would scorn him. He wondered what kind of reception he would get when he returned. Would she welcome him or had she had time to get over her passion?

He saw Fergus stand at the bow of the ship, watching the stars overhead, and decided to join him.

"Captain says we'll be putting into port tomorrow afternoon," he said, smiling at Fergus's worried look. "Calm down, Fergus, we're almost there."

"I just want to get home, to see she's safe."

Silence dragged out between them for a bit before Michael ventured a question. "So, are you going to tell me how long you've been in love with 'the pest?'" he asked.

"I will, if you tell me how long you've been in love with 'the iceberg,'" Fergus countered.

Michael laughed at the retort.

"Still waters run deep, Fergus. You were right—s, She's opinionated, exasperating, stubborn and damn me if I don't love her for it."

For a moment, he surprised himself with his admission. She was an amazing woman, but did he actually love her, whatever that word really meant? One thing he knew for sure, his feelings for Anora were far stronger and more complex than for any of the many women he had professed his "love" for before.

"You know, you could' have just described yourself, too, little brother," Fergus replied.

"That's why we suit each other," Michael explained, smiling. "She keeps me on my toes."

"You never would've been satisfied with anything less," Fergus replied. "I half expected you and Leah…"

"Leah?" Michael snorted. "You really are a blind sot, you know that? Leah's had the worst crush on you since…_forever_. Besides, she's more like a sister to me than a lover."

He elbowed Fergus in the ribs. "And stop worrying. You're going to feel like an idiot when you get home and discover she's fine and just pissed off at you for leaving her behind like you did. Then you'll wish you were back in Denerim."

Michael looked out at the dark water and listened to the wind that was taking them home to Gwaren and Anora. He knew what kind of reception he wanted from his unpredictable wife, but what would he get when he got home?

* * *

Their arrival in Gwaren was greeted with much cheer and celebration. News had been sent ahead that the Blight was over and Anora had arranged a welcome fit for her husband and his brother with cheering crowds, brightly colored banners and welcoming smiles.

Michael's eyes sought Anora as they reached the docks and he found her standing, smiling, in the middle of a throng of dignitaries and noblemen that had gathered to meet them. As soon as the ship had come to rest, he strode down the gangplank and gave Anora a warm hug, and kissed her chastely on the cheek.

As he kissed her he whispered in her ear: "I missed you, dear. Get rid of all these nobles and I'll show you just how much."

Anora blushed and turned her head with a small smile on her face. Then her nose wrinkled slightly.

"Not until you've had a bath. You smell like a wild mabari."

Michael laughed and she let him tuck her hand in his arm to stand beside him.

Families gathered at the docks greeted returning husbands, brothers and sons. Others looked with hopeful eyes for those who would not be returning to home. Michael only had eyes for Anora, but after a moment he noticed Fergus's worried look.

"Anora, where's Leah?" Fergus asked.

Anora sighed softly. "I'm sorry, Fergus. She left the day you set out to Denerim. She didn't say where she was going but I assumed after…well, I assumed she was going home to Dragon's Peak."

Fergus tried to hide his disappointment, but it was obvious to Michael how much that news disturbed and disappointed his brother. "I have to go find her. I have to know she's safe."

"Not on an empty belly, you won't," said Michael. "Let's get some lunch and we'll go get her."

Anora frowned. "But you only just got back and you promised…."

"Family obligations, buttercup. We Couslands always do our duty."

"Duty," Anora snorted. "You just want another adventure. Very well, I suppose I can wait another few days. Go help your brother."

Michael laughed and bent down to her.

"I still need that bath, Buttercup," he whispered into her ear. "Maybe there's room for you, too."

"Oh!" she gasped, blushing. She slapped his cheek, but it didn't really hurt and she didn't look too displeased.

"I'll join you in a bit, big brother," he said and winked at Anora. "Erlina can get you something to eat. There are some duties I must have to attend to in Gwaren before we go."

* * *

Anora followed him away and up the stairs to their private quarters, where she explained a bath had been poured for him. When Michael had climbed the stairs and opened the door, he caught the scent of flowers from the bath, and he realized how much he would enjoy the hot water now. Amazing, really, that he had survived in the woods for nearly a year without such a small luxury.

He entered their bedchamber and began to remove his clothes. Anora followed him into the room and opened his wardrobe.

As Michael's eyes traced the slim curves of her back, he remembered just how much he had missed other pleasures, and how badly he'd missed _her_ while he was away.

"Since when did the Teyrna start bringing clothes to her husband like a common chamber maid?" Michael asked teasingly and approached her.

"Since her husband refused to put on proper attire unless she was there to personally oversee it," Anora replied curtly.

"Sure you don't want to join me, buttercup?" he asked and placed a hand on her buttocks as she tried to get a new shirt for him.

Anora gasped at the touch, but didn't pull away immediately.

"Don't, Michael," she said in a strained voice as his hand lingered on her behind. "We don't have time for such games. Your brother is waiting downstairs and…"

"He can wait," Michael murmured, thoroughly aroused now. He lifted his hand from her behind and reached around her with both hands to cup her breasts. Then he gently began to massage her breasts through the fabric of her dress.

"Don't be ridiculous, this… is isn't the time for… this," Anora replied breathlessly. Despite her protests, she arched her back to press her bottom against his pelvis.

"Maker, but I've missed you," he murmured as he leaned forward to bury his face into her golden hair and drink her smell.

He pressed his arousal against her and she moaned slowly as she met him with a push herself.

"Stop it," she gasped as he began to pull at her dress. "The servants could be here any moment."

She tore herself free from him and hastened towards the door. He groaned inwardly in frustration. He'd missed her and now he wanted her so badly, but she seemed determined to resist. Damn the woman's sense of propriety.

Then he heard a metallic rustle and saw her turn around holding the key to their bed chamber in her hand. She bit her lip and lowered her lashes, heavy with desire.

"Maker's mercy, we don't have much time, so hurry up," she whispered, panting.

He met her halfway across the room. She took his head in her hands and kissed him almost savagely. He grabbed her buttocks and crushed her to himself, groaning with desire.

For a moment, the wild abandon of their lust almost made them topple over, but she took a step back and sat down on his desk, legs spread wide, to steady herself.

He heard her moan as he kissed her neck and licked along her jaw line. Then no longer able to contain himself, he bent to pull up the hem of her dress.

"Wait," she moaned, "not like this."

She slid off the desk and turned around, reaching down herself to pull her dress up before she leaned forward over the desk. He took the hem of her dress from her and lifted it even further, revealing those pale, lovely legs and the small shapely buttocks, barely covered by her lacy small clothes. He put his hand on her buttock again caressing it through the flimsy fabric, and then let his fingers move down between her thighs.

Anora hissed and spread her legs slightly almost tiptoeing to give him better access. He could feel the fabric was already damp with her arousal.

"Maker help us, just do it!" she gasped as his fingers gently pushed the fabric aside to reach the now puffy and slippery folds beneath.

No longer able to contain himself, he dropped his breeches to free his almost painfully hard erection. In one swift motion, he aimed for her entrance and shoved his shaft into her as far and he could. She hissed as he buried his length inside her.

No longer feeling anything but an all consuming desire, he thrust himself hard and fast into her. There was no time for gentleness or endearments, just a raw animalistic need that she seemed to echo herself, when she met his every thrust with a moan as she pushed herself back against him.

Finally he could no longer contain himself, his release building up in him. With a guttural cry, he thrust himself hard into her a few more times, before he finally reached the peak and spilled himself deep into her. He swayed and wobbled, as she continued to push herself rhythmically against him, milking the last remnants from him.

He tried to steady himself and then he bent down and parted her hair to reveal her slender neck. He pressed a long lingering kiss there before he rose again and slowly withdrew from her. She whined almost petulantly as he slipped out of her.

"I suppose I should take that bath now, buttercup" he said as he tried to control his breath. "Are you sure you haven't changed your mind about sharing it with me?"

Anora remained, leaning panting on the desk for a moment, then she rose and straightened her dress.

"Well, I suppose I could use a bath after this," she said nonchalantly. Grinning Michael began to undress.

"Michael? Anora?" Michael heard Fergus shout outside. "Michael, where are you?"

Michael cursed inwardly. The Maker had given his brother the worst sense of timing.

"Forget him, buttercup," he said to Anora. "He can wait."

"Don't be ridiculous," she answered him, all business again. "Get yourself clean while I take care of our guest. Someone has to be responsible around here."

Then she left him and went to the door to unlock it again and leave. When she had opened the door she halted in the doorway and looked back at him.

"I could order another bath for bedtime, though…" she said in carefully neutral voice.

"Sounds great, love!" Michael answered smiling.

She flashed him a brief mischievous smile as she nodded, before her face sobered and she walked away.

"Hurry up, husband. We don't want to keep your brother waiting."

* * *

A bit later, Fergus, Anora, Michael and Erlina were all gathered in one of the sitting rooms off Michael and Anora's bedroom. Fergus seemed very distressed and Michael wondered what the matter was.

"It's Leah," Fergus said and swallowed. "It's…ah… Erlina said that she's… with child."

Michael's eyes widened as he lay on the settee, listening to him.

"What? Are you saying that you…?" he asked, trying to choke back a giggle.

Fergus looked so distressed Michael burst out laughing helplessly.

"It's not funny, Michael."

"Oh, yes it is! I was inclined to bite off your head when you interrupted me _yet again_ with my wife but this makes up for it. My responsible, dependable, boring brother got his girlfriend knocked up. Oh, this is too good! I wish Mother and Father were still alive to hear this one."

Fergus moaned. "Bann Sighard is going to kill me. I'll never get to see Leah again unless it's through iron bars."

Michael held his sides and laughed, tears coming out of the corners of his eyes.

"Probably…" he snorted through his laughter.

He knew he shouldn't make fun of his brother's distress, but the situation was just so absurdly comical. Here he was properly married, while his dependable brother had gotten a girl pregnant. Who would ever have believed this could happen? Anora frowned at her him, but her disapproving expression only made him laugh harder.

"Fergus, maybe we can send them a letter," she said, trying to sound encouraging.

"A letter? This isn't a trade negotiation, buttercup," Michael managed to speak between chuckles. "Somehow I don't think a letter is going to send the right message."

Then inspiration seized him. He was the Teyrn of Gwaren and still had a sizeable army at his command. With no threat of civil war or a Blight, he could use it to help his brother instead.

"I've got an army just sitting here in Gwaren. The Blight is done, they have nothing to do. Let's go get your girl, Fergus," said Michael.

Anora looked at her husband, aghast at his suggestion. "You're going to besiege Dragon's Peak? Michael, that's madness!"

"Not besiege them, just a… precaution in case things get messy. Fergus is going to go ask for Leah—politely—and if they refuse, _then_ we will besiege them until they give her up."

Anora turned to Fergus. "Surely you can talk some sense into him, this is ridiculous!"

"I like it!" Fergus agreed. "When can we set out?"

"On the morrow. My men need their reunions here, but we can head out after giving them a night at home."

"You're both insane!" gasped Anora. "What kind of family have I married into?"

"Aw, now, buttercup, you knew what I was like when you married me. Now, come on let's go have our reunion so we can give Fergus his." He captured her in his arms and started kissing her pale throat.

"I'm not touching you! You're crazy!" She shoved at him trying to escape the circle of his arms, but he flung her over his shoulder and winked slyly at his brother, a smirk curling up the corners of his mouth.

"No, Michael, not in front of your brother! Let me down, you brute," Anora yelled squirming in Michael's grip, but he just tightened his hold to prevent her from slipping free.

"See you tomorrow, brother, try to get some sleep."

He kicked open the door leading to their room and carried her into the bedchamber.

"Stop it," she protested. "What's wrong with you? You're embarrassing me in front of your brother."

"My brother knows better than complain about my behaviour," Michael said as he put her down on their bed. "Besides, at least _we're_ properly married."

Anora sat up on their bed and tried to straighten her dress.

"You could at least wait until that second bath you talked about is ready," she protested.

Michael sat down beside her and leaned in to kiss her neck.

"It'll take forever for the servants to heat all that water. I'm not waiting that long.

"You really are a dreadful brute," she murmured as she felt his hand close around one of her breasts. "But I suppose you're right about heating all that water. Just lock the door, for Andraste's sake.


	18. Under Siege

Chapter 18. Under Siege

Anora watched Michael pass orders to his captains, telling them to prepare to move out again in the morning. Even she could see that the battle of Denerim had forged a bond between him and the soldiers and captains he led. These men had been her father's army, and the soldiers of Gwaren was a hardy lot, not easily impressed by anyone, but Michael had won their hearts. It didn't matter that she was Teyrna and Loghain's daughter. It was _his_ army now. They would follow him with the same loyalty they had shown her father.

It made her proud of him, but part of her was envious, too. She'd always been a good ruler and an excellent administrator, but she didn't have that inner quality that made men follow a leader without question into the jaws of death. She could reason and persuade people. She would have an endless supply of facts to convince people to see her way, but never had she been able to command that instinctive loyalty that her father and Michael could.

Then she sighed to herself. It was all well and good that Michael had proved himself to be an excellent leader of men in war, but why did he have to bring his whole army on this ridiculous campaign against Bann Sighard of Dragon's Peak? She tried to reason with him and make him abandon this mad scheme, but Michael had refused to relent.

"We're only going to pick up Fergus's girl, that's all. I doubt it will actually come to bloodshed," he had assured her smiling. "Besides, a Cousland doesn't give up on his woman that easily, you should know that by now, buttercup."

That remark had earned him a snort. The whole situation was farcical. Fergus Cousland had a good name and Bann Sighard had every reason to see his pregnant daughter married as soon as possible. It would be in everybody's interest to negotiate a reasonable political settlement to this. But instead of doing the sensible thing, Michael had insisted on treating it as some kind of romantic adventure, and the normally more level-headed Fergus had simply followed him.

The fact that he had been home such a short time made it so much worse. She had missed him terribly when he had been away fighting the Blight, fearing he might die. In the short time she had spent with him, he had become almost a friend. He could be surprisingly warm when he wanted and he had a sharp intellect that could challenge her in ways that still surprised her.

So she had tried to argue it with him to try and get him to see reason, but to no avail. For the second time now, she had to say goodbye and watch Michael and his brother prepare to march off, with an army at their heels. This time there was no Blight and hopefully there would be no bloodshed at all, but inside she still worried.

"Goodbye, Anora," Michael said smiling. "This won't take long. I'll be back before you realize I'm gone."

"Goodbye, husband," she said softly. "Please, just try and not do anything foolish."

"Come on, you know me, buttercup," he replied and winked.

Anora just snorted and shook her head. She knew him far too well to not believe he'd do something foolish and maybe dangerous.

Michael brushed his lips against her cheek and then he left her, walking towards his brother and the squire that held his horse for him.

Anora stood there watching him leave resolutely, and then she couldn't stand it any longer.

"Wait!" she yelled. Gathering her dress, she hurried after him.

He turned to look at her quizzically when she reached him. She paused for a moment to gather her breath and then pulled his head down in a fierce kiss.

"Just be sure to come back!" she said breathlessly when she released him. Then she straightened her dress, cheeks glowing with embarrassment.

Michael stared at her for a moment, dazed, and then a grin spread on his face.

"Of course, buttercup. You won't get rid of me that easily."

* * *

Anora watched Michael ride off at the head of the army, sighing to herself. Maybe this was the way it should be anyway.

She still remembered the day Michael had proposed that they should get married. Of all the things that he had said to persuade her, there was one thing that had stuck in her heart. He would risk open war to protect her if Eamon or anyone else threatened her, not because she was useful to him, but because she would be his wife.

To Michael and Fergus, such loyalty was part of their nature. Michael would follow Fergus to the Black City itself if need be and Fergus would do the same for him, simply because they were brothers.

Her father had been intensely loyal to what he thought was the good of Ferelden, but he'd never made her feel that she was worth something just for being his daughter. She had to be perfect to measure up to the standards of her father and of the nobles who still thought that she was only a dressed up peasant.

Then she thought about Cailan. Her first husband had been loyal to her as his queen. He had depended on her to govern in his place. But he had soon tired of her as a woman, and sought other, more interesting dalliances. He had hurt her and made her feel undesirable, and not attractive enough.

She'd had furious rows with Michael during their short marriage, but she had begun to suspect that Michael would still drop everything and gather an army to come to her rescue if she needed him, simply because she was his and that was it. She didn't have to do anything to deserve this loyalty, other than be his wife. It left a warm glow inside her to think about it, and if Fergus felt the same about Leah, she really couldn't deny them that.

* * *

Michael saw an outrider come galloping over the ridge waving his spear.

"It's here, Teyrn Michael," he heard him call. "Just across the ridge."

"Come on, brother!" Fergus shouted beside him. "Let's hurry."

"Calm down, Fergus," he answered him. "We'll get there soon. It's important we arrive in style, not panting like dogs."

"Yes, of course. You're right," Fergus agreed and smiled nervously.

Michael looked carefully at his brother. Fergus looked pale and he fidgeted with the reins to his horse. Michael shook his head worriedly. Fergus was really worked up over Leah and the baby. _I just hope he doesn't say anything stupid when he sees her,_ he thought to himself.

Together they rode across the ridge and saw Bann Sighard's keep, sitting on a hilltop. It was a sturdy keep built on solid bedrock. Michael couldn't help but think that it would be a tough place to storm if they actually had to besiege the keep for real.

Michael ordered the bulk of the army to halt well out of bowshot from the keep, then he, Fergus and a small group of knights approached the keep. Michael scanned the battlements carefully. He could see several archers stand ready, but none had raised their weapons yet. Above the gate he could see Bann Sighard wearing his heavy plate armor.

"Leah?" Fergus called. "Leah, are you there?"

"Can you please stay quiet and let me talk?" Michael said to him.

"Bann Sighard, what a pleasure to see you," Michael called loudly. "We'd like to talk to you, for a moment."

"Keep your distance, Michael Cousland," Bann Sighard shouted back. "You and your brother aren't welcome here."

"I'm afraid it's not quite that simple," Michael replied. "You see, we can't leave without my brother's betrothed here."

"My daughter is not betrothed and you know it. She was shamed by your brother!"

"Now, let's not be hasty," Michael called. "Wouldn't it so much easier for everyone involved if she was betrothed to my brother?"

"Don't think that'll work on me! My daughter's been dishonored and I should kill your brother for it."

"Do we really have to sit here and shout this at each other?" Fergus asked. "I just want to talk to Leah. That's all."

"I am not now, nor will I ever, turn my daughter over to you, Teyrn Cousland. Go home," Sighard said.

"I'm not leaving without her, Sighard," Fergus continued. "I would prefer civilized discourse."

"Is that why you have your army here?"

"That's just a precaution. These are dangerous times."

"Dangerous for you, boy. Out of respect for your parents I haven't ordered my archers to fire but if you try to step foot into this keep…."

Michael saw a dark haired figure that could only be Leah interrupt the Bann. Michael couldn't hear what they were saying, but Leah seemed to be pleading with Bann Sighard.

"All right, a flag of truce?" Bann Sighard called out after a while. "My daughter would hear what you have to say. But none of your men cross this threshold. Just you and Michael.

"Agreed," said Fergus.

Michael grinned up at Leah and clapped his brother on the back encouragingly. The drawbridge was lowered and he and Fergus crossed warily. Michael's men stood ready, not entirely sure there wouldn't be bloodshed after all. Sighard's men seemed to be doing the same, bows down, but held ready for trouble. Sighard and Leah greeted them at the threshold of the keep.

He saw his brother watch Leah wordlessly for a long time.

"All right, Fergus, I'm here. I'm listening. What do you have to say?" Leah asked.

"Leah, I want to do what's right. I want to marry you."

Sighard frowned and Michael slapped his forehead with his palm.

"That's my brother, the smooth talker…" he muttered to himself.

"No," Leah said flatly.

Michael could see that Fergus was losing his temper.

"_No one_ keeps me from my family. I won't give you up, Leah!"

"Go home, Fergus. Take Michael's army and retake Highever. I'm done. You've worn out your welcome," she sighed and turned on her heel to walk away.

"You heard my daughter, boy. Go home."

"I'm not leaving," Fergus snapped. Then, louder, so she would hear. "I'm not giving up, Leah."

"Go home, Fergus!" she called over her shoulder.

Sighard stood, arms folded, one brow raised.

Michael and Fergus crossed over the drawbridge which was once again lifted. Michael smacked his brother on the arm.

You idiot! Did you have to just say it like that? Maker's breath, what's wrong with you? You just look her in the eyes and tell her you love her, how hard can it be?"

"Oh really?" Fergus replied heatedly. "If you're such an expert, when did you ever tell Anora you loved her?"

"Anora's…just different, damn you. I show her what I really feel in other ways, but I know that she knows."

"By screwing her silly every night? We all know about that," Fergus grated.

For a moment, Michael looked at his brother through a red mist of rage. He'd never heard Fergus say anything so foul before. His first instinct was to hit Fergus, but then he calmed himself. Fergus was beside himself with anxiety over Leah and the baby. Slowly the anger turned to empathy.

"My poor brother, you really don't know anything about women, do you?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't think when she gets that close to me! I just know what I want."

"You two are just alike—so stubborn and proud. Well, now we get to play siege. Your bluff has been called, Fergus. How long do you think we can do this without it being for real?"

"This was your idea."

Michael put up his hands in protest. "I didn't expect you to botch the opening round of talks that badly. I'm all tapped out at the moment. Give me a day or two. I'll think of something."

* * *

For the next three days Michael oversaw the building of a camp for his army, while musing on a way to resolve the trouble Fergus's clumsy words had got them in. He had to at least pretend to be preparing to besiege the keep. He began by ordering his men to take turns felling trees. They would need lots of wood to build ladders, rams and siege engines.

Ideally this would be resolved without violence, or at the very least as little as possible. He had seen how Leah had looked at Fergus. She clearly loved his brother, even if she seemed to be out of sorts over everything. He knew Bann Sighard was a decent man at heart, and he would see the advantage in getting Leah properly married. All they needed was a nudge in the right direction.

Then it struck him. Let Fergus fight a duel with Sighard. That would be ideal. Honor would be satisfied, and no one had to die.

"Look, it's perfect," Michael said, explaining his idea to Fergus. "Call him out—to first blood only. Sighard gets to defend his family honor, you can beat an old man easily so you get to have Leah returned to you. And I get to go home to Gwaren and try to make it up to Anora for being away this long. Everyone wins."

"I'm not going to fight Leah's father, Michael. He's an old man."

"An old man who wants your family jewels for his trophy room. You're lucky he hasn't just taken them and sent you back to Highever in ten different little boxes."

"Why does everything have to be a big joke to you, Michael? This is serious."

"And I am being serious, Fergus. This will satisfy everyone's honor and it will prove to Leah how serious you are about her. Women want to know you want them for themselves, not out of duty. Have you ever told her how you feel?"

Fergus frowned. "I can't, Michael. I don't know how else but to show her how I feel. I can't say it."

"You said it often enough to Oriana. Why can't you tell Leah? I know you love her."

There was a long silence as Michael watched his brother carefully. Then Fergus spoke in a low almost whispering tone. "Those were the last words I spoke to…them before I left that night."

"I'm sorry, Fergus, I didn't know," Michael said.

_Poor Fergus_, he thought. So much worry and dread. However much Michael had lost in the massacre at Highever, Fergus had lost more. No wonder he couldn't see straight about it.

"Leah isn't Oriana," Michael tried to explain. "She's a fighter—you won't lose her just because you tell her you love her. But you might lose her if you don't, brother. Think about it."

* * *

Michael was tired and slept soundly that night. Most of the men were up and about when he woke up. He peered out of his tent and looked around for Fergus. One of the guards at his tent told him that Teyrn Fergus had left the camp and headed to the keep. Still trying to cast of his sleepiness, he donned his belt and swords and hurried after his brother.

When he reached Fergus, his brother was standing in front of the gate talking to Bann Sighard, who was standing on the battlement above.

"Going with my plan, eh, Fergus?" Michael nodded, yawning.

"Not quite," Fergus replied. Then, to Sighard. "Exactly. I don't want this to go on anymore than you do. I propose a challenge. You. Me. In the courtyard. Fisticuffs."

Sighard frowned. "Boy, surely your father told you about me?"

"My father said you hit like a mule kicks. All the same, I won't kill Leah's father. And I want this business done."

"Well, my daughter isn't getting any _less pregnant_, that's for certain. I win, you'll abide by Leah's choice."

"Agreed."

"You're brave, big brother, I'll give you that," Michael said to Fergus. "Sighard used to be one of the most fearsome fisticuffs fighters in his days, and he's not that old yet."

"I know what I'm doing," Fergus replied grimly, as the portcullis slowly opened to let them into the courtyard,

Bann Sighard and Leah waited for them inside. Michael saw Sighard talk to his daughter before he turned to them.

"Don't think I'll go easy on you for Bryce's sake, boy," Sighard called to Fergus. "I'm going to give it my all."

"I'm counting on it, Sighard," Fergus replied looking at Leah.


	19. Love and Marriage

Chapter 19. Love and Marriage

Michael watched as both men limbered up and prepared for the fight. He looked intently at the two men, trying to size them up. He had to admit that Sighard seemed to move with more assurance, clearly having more experience with this. Even if his brother looked very determined, and had the advantage of relative youth, it was a toss-up as to who had the actual advantage.

For tense moments the two men circled each other, tentative jabs thrown to test the other's mettle. Then they began to move with earnestness. Sighard's blow was the first to connect, a strong punch to the right upper arm. Michael whistled softly to himself as he realized Sighard was trying to numb Fergus's arm muscles. If he succeeded, this was going to be a short fight for his brother.

His soldiers were placing bets on which one would yield first and he saw Sighard's men doing the same. The consensus seemed to be drawn along lines of age rather than oath, with the older soldiers betting on Sighard, the younger on Fergus.

Michael turned to look carefully again at the two men fighting. He could see that Sighard had the advantage, but for some reason the bann seemed to hold back. Then he smiled to himself and waved Ser Gavren over to his side.

"Gavren, take this gold and place it on Fergus as winner," he told him and handed a small pouch to Ser Gavren.

"As you wish, my lord," Gavren said nodding.

"And Gavren, drop the 'my lord,' I'm your commander, and no title will change that."

"Yes… Commander."

Michael returned to watching the fight. Fergus had taken several hard punches, but was still fighting. Spent and panting, both men stood, hands on knees, catching their breath.

"Give it up, boy. I won't yield," Bann Sighard said.

"I know," Fergus replied. "But I won't either. Not until I give you enough."

Sighard frowned and renewed his assault, angrily. He rained several blows on Fergus, who could only hold up his arms in defense, until a blow knocked him down. Then Sighard called on Fergus to stand up again or yield.

The fight was all one way now. Fergus could hardly even defend himself and Sighard kept hitting him, but none of the hits brought Fergus down. Michael smiled to himself. His intuition had been correct. Sighard could have knocked Fergus out if he had wanted, but he was pulling his punches.

Then Fergus fell to his knees. There was cheering from those who had placed their bets on Sighard. Fergus slowly pushed up with his hands, and staggered to his feet.

"By the Maker, boy! What are you trying to prove?" Sighard said "That you can take a hit? You are your father's son."

"Not…leaving…without her…" Fergus managed to gasp, swaying with glazed eyes.

Sighard drew back his fist, but Leah ran forward, grabbing her father's arm.

"Stop it! Fergus, yield! Please yield!"

"No, not until this is done."

Sighard looked at his daughter. "It's done, Fergus. I yield."

Michael grinned at the scene. Bann Sighard told his son to fetch the revered mother and prepare for an immediate wedding. Leah appeared to protest, but Michael could see her heart wasn't in it.

"That was lucky, Commander," Ser Gavren said.

"That wasn't luck, Gavren," Michael answered still grinning. "That was determination."

Fergus would do anything to win back Leah, including letting an old man kick his ass, but Sighard didn't really want to win. Just as Michael had suspected, Bann Sighard had only wanted to uphold his honor. He was smart enough to realize that it would be best for everyone if Fergus and Leah got married. Leah's outburst at the end had been the final straw. That had betrayed her true feelings for Fergus.

Then Michael walked over to Fergus and extended a hand to help his exhausted brother to stand up.

"I guess we'll make an honest man of you yet, big brother."

* * *

The wedding was lavish for having been so abruptly arranged. The bride was radiant and the groom looked ridiculously pleased with himself. Leah's parents stood overlooking the proceedings and smiling happily. The main hall was decked in flowers, and the smell of the wedding feast still cooking wafted through the hall, making all the occupants' mouths water.

Standing as best man, Michael grinned at his brother. He felt as if a hole in his heart was slowly healing as he saw how happy Fergus and his bride were. The Cousland family would live on and thrive. The empty space that his parents' deaths had left in him was still a raw wound, but he knew that other Couslands would grow up and take their place. Fergus would be a good and kind Teyrn, and Leah would give him the strength to be tough when he needed to be.

Later, after the banquet, Michael sat down in a corner of the feast hall to relax, feeling a bit tipsy. A smiling serving wench appeared out of nowhere to offer him more wine, which he happily accepted. The girl seemed to hover in the corner of his eye for a while, but she was forgotten about as he saw Fergus walk past.

"Hey, brother. Get over here!" he called.

Fergus grinned and walked came over to sit beside him. Michael could see by his brother's slightly unsteady gait as he approached that Fergus was at least as tipsy as he was.

"So, little brother," Fergus said when he had seated himself. "Enjoying the party?"

"This must be the best wedding I've ever seen. Everyone's happy and the formalities were minimal. Well not compared to mine, but still…."

Fergus grinned at him.

"I have no idea what you see in that woman, Michael. Maybe I never will. But you miss Anora, don't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Michael replied and felt himself flush a bit. He didn't want to admit how much he actually longed for his wife tonight.

"Oh really? Do you remember the serving wench who poured you that last glass of wine?"

"Not really, no. Was she the blonde? Anyway, what about her?"

"Come on. She's been flirting outrageously with you all evening, and you've barely noticed her. The brother I remember would've been all over her by now."

Had she? Michael frowned. He was sure would've noticed if a pretty girl had been flirting with him. Then he vaguely recalled a pretty smile and some fluttering of eyelashes.

"I'm a married man, Fergus," he said embarrassedly after a while. "I have responsibilities now."

"Responsibilities?" Fergus asked him and laughed. "Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?"

Then Fergus's face sobered and clasped Michael's hand. "It's all right. I'm not questioning you. Just as long as you're happy."

With a sheepish smile, Michael put his hand on Fergus's shoulder.

"So, big brother, you and Leah needs a place to stay now. When do we retake Highever?

* * *

In the end it was decided that they would march off to free Highever from the remaining soldiers of Amaranthine a week after the wedding. They needed to negotiate for provisions and plan the campaign. Marching on Highever was almost certain to involve real fighting.

Leah was definitely unhappy at first to hear that Fergus would be leaving so soon after the wedding, but her father convinced her it was necessary.

"Fergus is your man now, but he's also the rightful Teyrn of Highever, too. He needs to fight for this. It's your future home," Sighard had told her.

Leah had nodded, but then her face set into that familiar stubborn expression he remembered from their childhood. "Well then, if Fergus goes, I'm going with him. It's my home, too."

The look on Fergus's face immediately conveyed what his brother thought about _that_ idea. Wisely, Fergus had held his tongue for the moment. But when night came and the sound of rising voices issued from behind the closed door to their room, Michael prudently removed himself to a remote part of the keep. No way was he getting involved in that.

Michael worked all the week to prepare his army for war. Bann Sighard offered to send some of his men, too, but Michael politely refused. The men of Amaranthine ought to be few and disorganized after Howe's defeat. Those who remained would likely be more a band of brigands than an army. He did let Sighard loan him several horses though. They might need many mounted soldiers to patrol the teyrnir if the enemy were dispersed.

Fergus was also helping with some preparations, but Michael tried to do most of the work himself. Fergus deserved the time with Leah, and it was_ his_ army, not Fergus's. He had just finished a meeting with his captains and was crossing the courtyard when he heard a trumpet blaring from a lookout in one of the towers in the keep.

Michael hurried up on the battlement to see. There in the distance he could see riders approaching bearing his own banner. Michael frowned trying to figure out who they were. He hadn't sent any riders away from Dragon's Peak. Then he saw the small blond figure riding in a carriage in the midst of the group of knights approaching.

To his astonishment Michael realized that his wife had arrived in Dragon's Peak.

* * *

Anora felt a familiar tingle in her belly as she saw the towers of the keep as they rode across the ridge. She'd stayed at home in Gwaren for three days, before the waiting had been too much. She told Erlina that she needed to go to Denerim to assess the damage done and determine if timber from Gwaren would be needed to rebuild the city. Once on the way, she had said she might as well stop at Dragon's Peak and try to protect her investment and ensure that her husband didn't make a fool of himself.

She sighed to herself. While she did worry over this ridiculous march to Dragon's Peak—the army would cost a fortune to pay in upkeep—in her heart she had to admit that she missed Michael. She cursed her own weakness, but he'd barely come home from one campaign before he had left with the army again. Was he avoiding her on purpose? It wasn't fair.

To her relief she saw no signs of battle. Michael's army was camped outside the walls, but both the banners or Highever and Dragon's Peak flew from the towers of the keep. Apparently they had reached a sensible solution to the drama, despite her husband's impetuous nature.

When they neared the keep she scanned the battlements to see if she could possibly catch a glimpse of Michael. Then her heart skipped as she saw a familiar figure above the drawbridge waving at her. She couldn't resist a big smile as she waved back at him.

"Well, at least it seems like he's avoided causing any real disaster," she told Erlina and tried to hide her elation. "I suppose we must at least be grateful for that."

Erlina didn't reply.

As the carriage rolled in through the gate, she self-consciously touched her hair.

"Hello, dear! What brings you to this part of Ferelden?" Michael called to her, coming down from the battlement.

"I had to visit Denerim, and thought I might as well stop by," she said, trying to sound casual.

"Well, everything is well here. Fergus and Leah are properly married without a drop of blood shed. Well, only a few drops, and most of it was Fergus's."

Anora rose and held out her hand for Michael to help her out of the carriage. He ignored it though and promptly seized her around her waist and lifted her out, forcing her to grab hold of him to not topple.

"Michael, stop it!" she said breathlessly as he put her down.

"What? Do you think I should greet my beloved wife without a kiss?" he said grinning and leaned down. "Out of the question!"

"You're impossible!" Anora sighed contentedly when he finally broke the kiss. She still managed to look disapproving as she straightened her dress.

"I missed you, buttercup," Michael murmured in her ear, and she shivered a little as she felt his breath in her ear.

"That's fine, dear. But that's no reason to forget decorum. We're guests here, Michael."

"We don't have time for decorum, dear. We might as well have our little reunion as soon as possible. Fergus and I march to free Highever tomorrow."

"No!"

Michael stared at Anora as she shouted in protest.

"It's not fair!" she said and punched him in the chest angrily. "I've just found you and now you march away from me _again_?"

Michael put his arms around her and, despite her protests, pulled her towards him.

"It's not fair," Anora murmured and buried her face in his shoulder. She was mortified at how she had lost her wits.

"I'm sorry, buttercup," Michael whispered in her ear. "But this isn't a game. This is Highever, my home and Fergus's teyrnir."

"I know," Anora said and pulled back and straightened. Then she gave him an almost wistful smile. "It's the reason you married me after all."

Michael looked at her for a moment. Then he shook his head. "I married the most amazing woman in the country for a lot of reasons," Michael said and smiled. "I need the army to retake Highever, but I'd keep you for your… other assets, without any title or soldiers."

Anora jumped as he grabbed her buttock shamelessly. She glared at him as she pushed his hand away firmly and tried to compose herself. Part of her was distressed and furious that he was leaving again, while another part glowed with the unexpected words of endearment.

"If you really are leaving so soon, can't you at least try to not embarrass me until then?"

"Only if you promise to not stay up late tonight," Michael grinned at her.

Anora snorted and shook her head.

"You _are_ impossible, but… I suppose I am tired after the long journey," she said airily. "It's possible I'll retire early tonight anyway."

Then she turned to Erlina, who had just stolen a little wave at Ser Gavren who also approached the carriage.

"Erlina, can you see which quarters my husband has been assigned and make sure my luggage gets there. Then can you have a bath drawn for me?"

"Yes, my lady," Erlina replied. "Do you want me to attend to you during your bath?"

"No," Anora said, and let her eyes linger on Michael with the barest hint of a smile. "That won't be necessary."


	20. Vengeance is Mine

Chapter 20. Vengeance is mine

Michael felt a strange excitement rising inside him as he let two squires arm him. He was going to finally go home to Highever with his brother. The thieving, murdering bastards who had killed his mother and father would finally pay for what they had done. He'd finally come to terms with that things would never be like they had been ever again in Highever, but at least he would have revenge.

Fergus and Michael had agreed that they would first march to Bann Marglys's keep, half a day from Highever. Bann Marglys had always been a loyal vassal to the Couslands and her keep would be an ideal staging point for an attack on Highever.

When he was armed, he saw Fergus approach him in full plate armor. He raised his hand to greet him and grinned at his brother.

"All set, brother?" Fergus asked him.

"We're ready to march. Just tell Leah to come, and we'll be off.

Fergus nodded and went back inside the keep to fetch his wife. Fergus had not been happy when Leah had insisted on coming along. He had argued heatedly that Leah, "in her condition," should remain at Dragon's Peak in, but Leah wouldn't hear of it. In the end, it was decided that Leah would follow as far as to Bann Marglys keep, but no further.

Fergus returned shortly with Leah and Anora in tow. Michael noted with surprise that Anora wore in travelling cloak.

"Are you leaving at the same tame as us, dear?" he asked her.

"Yes," she answered him in a business-like tone. "I'm going to come with you. I can't allow Leah to travel alone in an army of uncouth soldiers without female companionship. Besides, I think it's best that I keep an eye on how you waste our treasury with all this campaigning, or your adventures will be the ruin of us."

Michael stared at her for a moment, and then he couldn't resist a little grin. "As you wish, dear," he said.

When the ladies had settled in the carriage with Erlina, Michael and Fergus headed towards the squires waiting with their horses.

"Now, we'll have revenge for Mom and Dad," Michael said grimly, as he mounted his black courser.

"I'll just be happy if we can just free Highever and clean away all the filth of those who did it," Fergus replied.

"Right, brother. Let's go!"

* * *

Michael's emotions were conflicted as they rode through the countryside. They were only a half day's march from Highever now, and everywhere they rode he saw familiar sights. Little hamlets or farmsteads he had passed many times in his youth. It felt good to be home, but far too often he also saw the ravages of war and famine.

A few peasants would come to cheer or just gawk as they rode past, flying the banners of Highever and Gwaren, but most would hide inside and wait until they passed. Michael understood their lack of enthusiasm. Bryce Cousland had been a popular teyrn and he didn't doubt that the commoners missed him, but war was always bad for peasants, no matter who won it.

"There should be a small village after the next bend," Fergus said. "I remember it from when Leah and I were here before."

Michael nodded. "We can probably rest there for the night. Then we'll march on Highever tomorrow at dawn."

They continued ahead, but when the road turned, they saw only burnt down ruins of what had once been a thriving village.

"Another deed Howe's men have to pay for," Michael said grimly.

"Those poor people," his brother said, shaking his head. "The village had already been looted once by Howe's men when I was here with Leah. They hardly had anything of value left. They must've come back and torched the place when they found nothing to steal."

"I'll go look at the place," Michael said. "If the wells aren't fouled, this might still be a good place to make camp."

Michael got off his horse and signalled four knights to follow him as he made his way into charred remains of the village.

To his relief, most of the wells in the village seemed to be good. He found a corpse in one well. About to instruct the knights to begin preparations, he stopped as he heard a sound from one of the ruined buildings. At first he thought it was just an animal, but then he recognized the sound a crying child.

He motioned his followers to wait and carefully approached the place where he'd heard the crying.

"Anyone there?" he called, but got no reply. He peered into the ruin carefully, and then changed tactics. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

For a moment there was silence, but then there was a rustle and a girl peered out from the charred ruin.

"Hello, there," he said, trying to sound friendly. "I guess this means you're hungry."

The scrawny looking girl nodded, but still looked warily at him. She had tousled brown hair and appeared to be maybe eleven or twelve years old.

Michael told one of his knights to go fetch some bread. He saw the girl's face light up at the mention of food. "I'm Michael. What's your name?" he asked her while they waited.

"I'm Edda," the shy reply came.

It took him a little while to get everything out of the girl. From the way she wolfed the bread down, she had been close to starving, and Michael had to hand it to her in small portions, afraid she'd choke on it.

Edda's story was more or less what he had expected. Their village was destitute, and when brigands had attacked them, they had nothing of value to steal, so the brigands had simply torched the place. Edda's parents had been murdered with most of the other villagers. He could tell from the way she told things that she must have seen worse things than just murder, but he didn't press her on it. She'd been through enough already.

Apparently none of the attackers had worn Howe's livery, but that didn't have to mean anything. With Howe dead, his mean would probably have lost discipline and might be little more than brigands now. _One more score to settle_, he thought angrily as he watched the little girl gratefully accept another loaf of bread.

"Thank you, ser," she said when she couldn't eat anymore.

"Do you have anyplace to go, Edda? Any relatives alive?" he asked her.

The girl just shook her head.

He looked at her for a while, thinking. "Can you cook, Edda?" he asked her then.

"A little," she replied.

"Good, then I have an offer for you. I can hire you to help cook for my soldiers. It'll be honest work and I'll pay you for your trouble."

The girl smiled, but then she looked warily at the armored knights beside Michael.

"You'd be in the service of the Teyrn of Gwaren, Edda, and I protect those who serve me. No one will be allowed to hurt you." Michael said.

Then the girl smiled and nodded happily.

"Good!" Michael said. "Come now, Edda, and Ser Yorgar here will show our new recruit to the cook."

He watched the girl follow the knight and shook his head. So much horror and pain. It was easy to forget that even if he had lost both his parents in the massacre, he was still one of the lucky ones. Every where he looked, there were commoners who were far worse off than him. If he was to earn his right to call himself a Cousland, he must do everything in his power to stop such abuse.

* * *

Anora sat huddled by the fire in the main hall in Bann Marglys's keep and listened to Michael and Fergus plan the attack tomorrow.

"Our scouts say that most of Howe's men regularly send out gangs to forage and plunder the countryside in order to feed themselves," Michael said. "Some of them have broken off and are now simple bandits roaming the countryside. The majority of those who still keep a semblance of order are holed up in Highever.

"Maybe we can simply frighten them into abandoning Highever?" Fergus asked him.

"No, if we let them run away, they'll likely become brigands and we'll have to chase them for years to come," Michael replied. "It's better if we attack by surprise and take them all at once."

She saw Fergus nod at this, but he looked worried.

"How do we take Highever then? I'd rather avoid a prolonged siege. That'll give them time to destroy the place. I know Leah is safe here, but given her condition, I want her settled as quickly as possible."

"We'll have to take the keep by storm. It's the only way. They're only brigands and I think I know how to do it," Michael said enthusiastically.

Anora felt a familiar knot of fear in her belly. This was when Michael would propose some daring plan that would put him in mortal danger.

"We have enough material to build a battering ram," Michael said. "You'll lead the majority of the men with the battering ram to the main gate. Just try and lure as many of the enemy there as possible. Then I take a small picked force and sneak in among the houses along the west wall and raise ladders. If we hurry, the defenders won't have time to react before we've gained the battlements. Then the keep is ours."

"That might work," Fergus said, nodding. "I always thought Dad was too lenient with those families who built their homes too close to the wall. I never imagined we'd be the ones to take advantage of it."

Anora clenched her fists in helpless distress. Of course Michael would propose that he lead the most dangerous part of the plan. If they miscalculated, the attackers would be horribly expose, climbing the ladders, and would likely suffer horrific casualties if the defense was stiffer than expected. But she knew enough about her husband to not try and talk him out of it. She just had trust that he knew what he was doing.

* * *

When they arrived with their army at the castle, the enemy had been in a state of disarray. The drawbridge was down and soldiers milled around outside the keep. For a moment, it looked as if they would be able to gain the main gate simply by riding straight for it, but in the last instant someone inside the castle barked an order and the drawbridge had been raised. Soon after arrows started to rain from the battlements on to the army below.

The soldiers of Gwaren brought a wooden frame on wheels covered with fresh animal hides. Using this as protection they slowly brought forth debris to fill the moat that separated the drawbridge from them. The enemy did their best to interrupt their work, and now and then a soldier strayed into an exposed position and was hit.

Meanwhile, Michael led his group of picked knights and soldiers carefully between the homes that lined the western wall of the castle. Small groups of soldiers moved at other places to make it seem like they were simply searching the houses for enemies.

The trickiest part was to bring the forth the long ladders they'd use to storm the battlements without the enemy noticing it. Michael had his archers watch the battlements, ready to discourage any enemy from looking too closely at their movements.

Then he heard a shout from above and saw one of the defenders point at the ladders below. Throwing all caution to the wind, he realized that he had to sound the attack at once or surprise would be lost.

"For Highever and Cousland!" he shouted and grabbed the ladder with his men. Suddenly men appeared from behind every hovel and house bearing ladders and running towards the wall.

Six ladders were raised against the wall, almost in unison. The archers supporting the attack tried to shoot at anything that moved on the battlement above.

Michael felt a touch of fear as began climbing the ladder behind a large knight. Soon he'd be so high up that he'd die or be crippled just from the fall if the enemy managed to tip or destroy the ladders. And there could be even worse things awaiting them if the enemy had time to be prepared. Cauldron's of boiling water or oil could be poured down on the attackers, and scald them.

These worries were quickly pushed away. There had been no fires on the battlements so the enemy wouldn't have had time to boil water or oil. There would only be a few scattered defenders. This would work. Confident, he let the excitement of battle seize him.

Beside him he saw a long wooden pole with a metal head extended from an arrow slit. With sick fascination he saw how the pole hit the ladder next to him and pushed it away from the wall until it toppled backwards. Screaming, the armored men on the ladder fell to their death.

Then the knight above him reached the battlements. He felt the man push himself up the last few feet, and then suddenly fall backwards. Michael was too occupied with trying to hang on to the ladder to see what had happened.

He took a deep breath and then he quenched the fear in his belly. _Don't stop to think_, he told himself and then he yelled; "For Highever!" and almost sprinted up the last feet up the ladder.

He heaved himself over the battlement just as a soldier with a pole arm tried to stab him. The knight before him had probably been to slow to avoid him, but Michael was more lightly armored and quick. He rolled to the side, and then crouching, pulled his swords from the scabbards on his back.

For a moment, he saw fear in the other soldier's eyes, then the enemy aimed the pole arm at him and charged. The enemy was desperate to kill him before more soldiers could climb the ladders and overwhelm the defenders.

Expertly he stepped aside to avoid the thrust and then he stepped in and cut down the man with two swift slashes with his swords. Even as the body fell to the ground, he turned to find the next enemy.

He could only see a few enemy soldiers on the battlements now. He rushed the nearest one and slew him just as quickly. The others retreated in fear. Michael's men had gained the battlements, but now a knot of enemies came running to bolster the defense. Without a thought, Michael charged them, yelling his battle cry.

All fear was gone. His head swam with the excitement of battle. He felt like he was in a fade dream. He was a spirit of vengeance, and the frightened soldiers, whom he felled right and left, were his prey as he meted out justice.

Another soldier held his sword out in an ineffectual defense, eyes wide in panic. Michael brought one of his own blades down, whipping it aside, and stepped in and slashed with his other sword straight at the man's neck, cutting his head clean off. Michael hardly blinked as he was drenched in blood spurting from the severed neck.

He contemptuously pushed the dead man off the battlements and looked for his next victim. Slowly, the desperate cries from the remaining soldiers on the battlements penetrated his mind. "We yield! Maker's mercy, we yield!"

As soon as Michael was sure that the group of enemies had cast down their weapons, he looked around for more. Behind him, more and more knights and soldiers from Gwaren and Highever climbed up the ladders to the battlements.

He made sure some of his soldiers collected the prisoners' weapons and then made his way past them and called his men to follow him. The battle wasn't over until they had won the gate and lowered the drawbridge.

Before him, the battlements ended in a big tower straddling the wall. If the enemy had been able to defend the tower and even barricade the door, they would lose valuable time, and the enemy might be able to organize a counter attack. His plan had been successful so far, but his men were terribly exposed if the enemy brought archers into the towers surrounding them.

His concern was unfounded. The spirit of the enemy had been broken with the surprising attack in their rear. Enemies dropped their weapons and surrendered as soon as Michael reached them. He felt a strange disappointment that none of them resisted.

He reached the main gate house. The door to the gate house was closed and barred. He swore in frustration and started to hack ineffectually at the thick oak planks. It would have taken time to force the massive door, but the frightened soldiers inside had had enough. They raised a white flag and slowly began to lower the drawbridge.

The battle was over.

* * *

Leah had waited at Bann Marglys's keep with Erlina, but Anora couldn't. She had to see what happened. Despite Fergus's obvious surprise, she had ridden at the rear of the army that set out for Highever. She had forced herself to watch as Michael had led the force scaling the ladders to the battlements. When one of the ladders had toppled and fallen, sending the men on it to their death, she had refused to look away. Her heart had almost stopped as she saw Michael hurl himself up on the battlements after the man above him had been pushed to his death by a pole arm.

When she'd seen Michael lead the men to clear all enemies away, she realized that the attack had succeeded. She had not been able to see when Michael had reached the gatehouse, but she knew with a strange certainty that he would live and that enemy was broken.

She had to wait until all the fighting had ended before she could go nearer the castle. When she reached the gatehouse, the drawbridge was already down and Fergus had ridden through the gate at the head of the rest of the army.

"I'm Fergus Cousland, rightful Teyrn of Highever. I promise that you'll be treated fairly!" she heard Fergus call out to the prisoners as she passed through the gate.

"Fuck that!" she heard Michael shout angrily.

She stared at Michael as she entered the courtyard.

"They killed Mom and Dad! They should all hang for it!" Michael shouted.

"No, Michael, I'm the Teyrn of Highever, not you. I'm not ordering anybody's death until I know who is guilty of what. They'll all be imprisoned and I'll make sure everyone who has been robbed, plundered or raped will have a chance to tell who it was so we can punish the guilty here, but there'll be no slaughter of prisoners."

"So what?" Michael countered. "You saw what they did to that village where we camped. If you demand evidence, it only means that it's the kinder ones who let their victims live we can hang, not the real murderers. Kill the fuckers!"

Anora stared at her husband. She had never seen him like this before. He was so filled with rage, he almost spat as he shouted.

Fergus just met his brother's gaze without flinching.

"Justice isn't perfect, little brother, but it's still better than blind vengeance," he said quietly.

There was no accusation in Fergus's voice, only pity. Anora remembered that Fergus had already been in Highever once before and that he burned the bodies of his family himself. He must have already suffered all those emotions that now warred within Michael.

"Please, Fergus," she said as she approached them. "Let me take care of this."

She steeled herself and approached Michael who stood glaring at his brother, a bloodied sword held tightly in each hand.

"Come now, husband," she said calmly. "It's time we let your brother sort things out now."

She almost looked away as he turned his rage filled gaze on her, but then his eyes seemed to dim and he looked down, arms hanging loosely.

"Anora, I…" His voice trailed off, unsteady.

When she took his arm, he followed her without resistance.


	21. Acceptance

Chapter 21. Acceptance

Michael let Anora lead him out of the keep back to their camp without protest. Once his rage had spent itself, all he felt was emptiness and a dull headache.

Back in the camp two squires hurried to help him remove his armor. He just stood there, swaying slightly, as they removed his armor, barely aware of his surroundings. When they were done, Anora gently but firmly led him into a tent and helped him down on his bed. He vaguely remembered her talking to some people and dismissing them. Then she sat down next to him, and his vision got more and more blurred until he dozed off.

When he woke up, Anora still sat by his side. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep.

"So you're awake now," she said briskly. "You've been out for almost a day. Leah has arrived and we're almost late for the victory banquet."

Michael arduously sat up and tried to clear his head. He must really have cheated with his sleeping lately to pass out like that.

"I'm coming," he said and rose up.

"You could try to dress properly first," Anora said and pursed her mouth. "This might be a war, but not even you should show up on your brother's victory banquet in a sweaty gambeson."

Michael nodded and noticed a red shirt with gold embroidery and slit sleeves, laid out for him. For a moment, Anora watched him struggle as he put on his shirt, still not quite awake, before she impatiently helped him straighten it.

When he was properly dressed, she regarded him carefully, then her face softened and she touched his chin.

"I understand coming back to the scene of your parents' murder must be hard on you," she said softly. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"No, buttercup, I'm not all right, he replied wearily. "But I'll make it. I promise."

"Good," she said and nodded. "Let's go then."

* * *

It felt like he moved through a dream, walking through the halls of Highever castle again. Everywhere, servants were clearing up debris and removing the evidence of Howe's occupation. Some of the servants smiled and bowed to him, but others looked frightened as he passed them, arm in arm with Anora. That made him sad. No servant had ever been frightened of their masters in Highever while his father had been Teyrn.

Then again, maybe word had been spread of how he had lost his mind in the battle and they were afraid of him now. He could still remember the boiling rage inside him when he thought about the men who had murdered his parents and massacred everyone else he'd loved in Highever, except his brother, getting away with it. He was overcome with a deep sense of shame over his outburst.

Finally they reached the main hall, where the hastily arranged celebration had been organized. He took a deep breath and squeezed Anora's hand a little. He felt warm inside as she squeezed him back. Their verbal communication had always been as much competition as affection, as they would always match their wits. But beyond words, they had slowly begun to develop another communication, little touches and looks that were muted and almost shy, but still infinitely warm and comforting to him.

For a moment Michael stopped and gaped as they entered into the hall. It was as if his father had suddenly returned to life. Then the figure turned to smile at him, and he realized that it was Fergus. _Why haven't I seen how much like father he really is before?_ he thought to himself.

The murmur of talking in the hall slowly muted as Fergus turned to look at him. He felt every eye in the hall bore into him. What did they think of him, after that display he had put on during the fight?

"Welcome back, little brother," Fergus greeted him warmly. "You were amazing!"

Embarrassed, Michael didn't know what to say when his brother clasped his hand, grinning, and then pulled him into a bear hug.

"It was nothing. I… I just hope you can forgive my outburst…" Michael tried to say.

"I've been there myself, you know," Fergus said seriously. "You didn't say anything I haven't thought myself. I wanted to kill every thieving, murdering bastard among them, too. But like it or not, I'm the Teyrn now and I have to think beyond my own feelings now."

Michael nodded and hugged his brother back. "You'll make a great Teyrn here Fergus. Much better than I ever could."

"Oh, I wouldn't know. You're Teyrn, too, you know," his brother said and winked at Anora.

"I'm good at storming castles, Fergus, the rest I let my wife take care of. She's far better than I am at it."

He turned to look at Anora and was almost dazzled by the smile she gave him. _Maker help me_, he thought. There wasn't a woman in Thedas that compared to her when she smiled like that.

Fergus grinned at them and he turned to the others gathered in the hall.

"My lords and ladies. Three cheers for my brother, Michael, the saviour of Highever who reclaimed my home from our enemies."

Cheers rang throughout the hall and Michael had to blink away a tear as one by one the knights and captains of Highever and Gwaren came to congratulate him. He saw only warmth and respect in their eyes. They had all seen his reaction, but they understood. He felt as if a great weight had lifted from his heart.

"Now, my lords and ladies, it's time to eat," Leah said. "There's not much in the way of a real banquet here, but it's good, wholesome food and there's plenty of it."

Michael allowed himself to relax as a servant poured him more wine. Nothing could truly rob Highever of that special warmth he always felt here.

Suddenly he saw Edda, the girl he'd saved in the charred village, come bearing a big plate of pork ribs.

"Hey, Edda!" he said and called her over.

"You want a pork rib, ser?" she said and proudly held the plate to him.

"I'd be delighted, Edda," he said and took a rib from her plate.

"How are you doing?" he asked as she turned to leave.

"I'm a serving girl now. I mustn't talk to the gentry while I'm working," she said with a serious face."

Then before Michael could even react, she had leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He stared at her as she hurried away.

"Well, now, what's this? I look away and my husband is back to his old ways, flirting with the serving wenches?" Anora said tartly and arched an eyebrow.

"Maker's breath. She's not a wench. I saved her from the… She's hardly twelve!"

Then he saw the mischievous glint in Anora's eyes and shook his head.

"It won't happen again, dear. You have my word," he said, sounding contrite.

"Good," she answered him airily before returning to her conversation with Fergus.

He took another look at the gathered people in the hall. _It's good to be home_, he thought smiling happily.

* * *

Anora was happy that the celebration had been enough to dispel whatever shadow had come over Michael. He seemed happy and content as they made their way up to their chamber.

She could still recall the mad gleam in Michael's eyes as he'd faced off with Fergus in the courtyard. Even if she had only been able to see part of the battle from afar, she'd heard the soldiers speak in awe of his prowess in the storming of the battlements.

_And I thought I'__d seen him dangerous_, she thought to herself. Even now it surprised her that she hadn't hesitated to pull him away from where he'd stood, half mad with anguish and rage. Then she realized that she had simply known he wouldn't hurt her. Whatever her husband was or did, he'd never hurt her.

They entered their bed chamber, Michael's old room, and she stole a glance at Michael as he began to undress for bed. The sudden certainty had been a revelation because another part of her had actually been afraid of him.

She still recalled the night their fight had turned surreal, when he had spanked her behind as if she was some naughty child, and that somehow had aroused her like nothing else had.

As pleasurable as it had been, it was also mortifying and part of her was afraid of it. The moment had been so intense. She hadn't dared trust herself to experience it again, but more than that, she hadn't dared to trust _him_. She had wondered if he would laugh at her desire or cross some line and really hurt her if she dared ask him to be so rough with her again.

So she'd done everything she could to hide those emotions and forget it ever happened. Only she couldn't forget. She would still wake up, embarrassed, but hopelessly aroused from reliving that moment over and over in her dreams.

Chewing her lip, she stood in her nightgown and watched him as he removed his shirt and started to kick off his boots. Her heart pounding in her chest, she considered the revelation again. _He would never hurt me_, she whispered to herself.

"Michael," she said softly, straining to keep her voice from sounding shrill.

"Yes?" he replied and turned to look at her, wearing only his small clothes now.

She tried to control her breathing and still her wildly beating heart.

"Do you remember the time that…?" her voice trailed off as her courage almost left her. Then she took a deep breath. She was Teyrna Anora Mac Tir, not some frightened little doe.

"Do you remember the time you… spanked me?" she said finally. She looked almost defiantly at him, daring him to look down on her.

"Anora, please," he said and looked at her with concern. "I don't know what came over us that night, but I'd never hurt you intentionally. You know that, don't you?"

She shook her head and raised her finger to his mouth.

"It's not like that," she murmured. "I trust you, and I… I think I'd like to try it again."

Her heart almost stopped. She saw his eyes widen as she said the words. Suddenly she knew he would reject her. Her admission had been too embarrassing. He would laugh at her or be angry at having such a wanton and shameful wife.

Michael frowned silently at her, unmoving. The tension suddenly became too much for Anora. Cheeks burning, she turned away from him to leave. _He just didn't understand_.

"Anora," he said sharply and she stopped dead in her tracks. His voice had almost been a command.

"Buttercup," he said in a softer tone, as he moved up behind her.

_Oh, Maker, please, let him understand, _she thought as she waited with closed eyes. _I need this.  
_  
She felt his fingers run through her hair and then push it aside to reveal her slender neck.

"Do you really want to do that again?" he whispered in her ear. His voice was deep and his words sent a shiver down her spine.

"Yes," she whispered, and quivered as he leaned down so that his lips touched her neck. Then she hissed as he closed his mouth on her neck and nipped.

"Only a very, very _wicked_ girl would want that," he murmured behind her and let his hand rest on her buttock.

"Yes," she croaked. Her breath was short and sharp. "Yes, I'm a wicked girl."

She almost lost her footing when she arched her back, as his hands slowly caressed her behind through the thin silken fabric of her nightgown. All thoughts of propriety were gone. Only her desperate need remained.

"I know," he continued, still breathing hotly in her ear. "And do you know what I must do to this wicked girl?"

"Mhm," she whimpered, squirming in anticipation as he lifted his hand from her.

"She needs to be… punished!"

* * *

In the Teyrn's master bedroom Fergus and Leah also prepared to go to bed.

Fergus had been worried about this moment. He wasn't sure how he would feel about sharing his bed with Leah here at home in Highever where he'd lived with Oriana. Now he realized that he had worried over nothing. Leah wasn't Oriana, but loving this wonderful woman didn't in any way sully the memory of his former wife. Life simply moved on.

"Oh, Maker," he said suddenly. "I forgot to tell Michael where I housed Erlina. Anora always wants to have her maid servant ready to attend to her. I'd better go tell them before we go to bed."

"No Fergus," Leah said.

"No?"

"Dearest husband, I don't think you should go to your brother right now. I'm sure he's busy."

"Busy?" Fergus said frowning. "What's he doing?"

"Why, I imagine the same thing you'll hopefully be doing to me soon," Leah said and lowered her lashes.

"Oh!" Fergus said and felt his cheeks flush. "Right… I'd better not barge in on Michael and Anora again doing… that."

Leah giggled and climbed into bed with him. Then she nestled her head against him and played a little with the hairs on his chest.

"Speaking of which," she murmured. "What exactly was it your brother and Anora were doing when you barged in on them?"

"Oh, please, Leah, don't ask."

* * *

With their passion spent, Anora lay in his arms, as they slowly came down after the intensity of their mutual release.

"Careful, I'm still tender," she murmured as she winced a little, when he caressed her reddened buttock.

"I'm sorry, buttercup," he whispered smiling. "I promise to try and kiss it better."

"Very funny," Anora replied and made a face as she poked him in the ribs. Then she grew serious.

"There's something wrong with us, or… me, isn't there? I mean, it's not natural to enjoy… _that_, is it?"

Michael just shook his head and smiled at her.

"We both took pleasure from it. What could possibly be wrong about that? When a woman feels compelled let a man take his pleasure without feeling anything herself, it's not right. But when two people share something they both find delight in, then I can't believe the Maker would find anything wrong with that."

"Do you really think so?" she said wonderingly and Michael nodded smiling.

"I just know I'd die if anyone ever found out," she said and looked down.

"No one ever needs to find out," he said. "This is just between you and me."

She took his hand and kissed his fingers.

"Thank you," she murmured.

She curled up in his embrace and just enjoyed his warmth for a while, until a little smirk played on her lips.

"So, when are you going to keep your promise," she asked pouting.

"What promise?"

"I'm still tender and you said you'd kiss it better."

THE END

_

* * *

_

This marks the end of this story arc, but I've had so much fun with these characters, I hope return to their further adventures some time in the future. Maybe _I'll be able to write a sequel later on. I don't know when though._


End file.
